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MOUNTAINEERING 


SIERRA     NEVADA 


CLARENCE    KING. 


"Altiora  petimus." 


BOSTON: 
JAMES   R.    OSaOOD   AND   COMPANY, 

Late  Ticknor  &  Fields,  and  Fields,  Osgood,  &  Co. 

1872. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  tlie  year  1871, 

BY     JAMES     R.    OSGOOD     &     CO., 

in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


University  Press  :   Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co., 
Cambridge. 


5SKS 
I  k7Z 


TO 

JOSIAH    DWIGHT    WHITNEY 

AND    HIS    STAFF, 

inr  COMRADES   OF   THE    GEOLOGICAL   SURVEY   OF   CALIFORNIA, 

E\jtsz  fEauntainecrtng  Notes 

ARE   CORDIALLY  INSCRIBED. 


*^n^^r:Q/f^a 


CONTENTS. 


• 

Page 

I.  The  Range 1 

II.  Through  the  Forest       .        .        .        .        ,        .  25 

III.  The  Ascent  of  Mount  Tyndall         .        .        .        .  49 

IV.  The  Descent  of  Mount  Tyndall   .         .        .  i     .  76 
V.  The  Newtys  of  Pike          .        .    •     .        .        .        .94 

VI.  Kaweah's  Run        . 112 

VII.  Around  Yosemite  Walls 133 

VIII.  A  Sierra  Storm 154 

IX.  Merced  R amblings 177 

X.  Cut-off  Copples's 206 

XI.  Shasta 223 

XII.  Shasta  Flanks 246 

XIII.  Mount  Whitney 264 

XIV.  The  People 282 


MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE  SIERRA  NEVADA, 


I. 

THE    EAN"GE. 

The  western  margin  of  this  continent  is  bui-lt  of  a  suc- 
cession of  mountain  chains  folded  in  broad  corrugations, 
like  waves  of  stone  upon  whose  seaward  base  beat  the 
mild  small  breakers  of  the  Pacific. 

By  far  the  grandest  of  all  these  ranges  is  the  Sierra 
Nevada,  a  long  and  massive  uplift  lying  between  the  arid 
deserts  of  the  Great  Basin  and  the  Californian  exuberance 
of  grain-field  and  orchard ;  its  eastern  slope,  a  defiant  wall 
of  rock  plunging  abruptly  down  to  the  plain ;  the  western, 
a  long,  grand  sweep,  well  watered  and  overgrown  with 
cool,  stately  forests ;  its  crest  a  line  of  sharp,  snowy  peaks 
springing  into  the  sky  and  catching  the  alpenglow  long 
after  the  sun  has  set  for  all  the  rest  of  America. 

The  Sierras  have  a  structure  and  a  physical  character 
which  are  individual  and  unique.  To  Professor  Whitney 
and  his  corps  of  the  Geological  Survey  of  California  is 
due  the  honor  of  first  gaining  a  scientific  knowledge  of 
the  form,  plan,  and  physical  conditions  of  the  Sierras. 
How  many  thousands  of  miles,  how  many  toilsome  climbs, 
we  made,  and  what  measure  of  patience  came  to  be  ex- 
pended, cannot  be  told  ;  but  the  general  harvest  is  gath- 
ered in,  and  already  a  volume  of  great  interest  (the  fore- 
runner of  others)  has  been  published. 


2  MOUNTAINEERING  IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

The  ancient  history  of  the  Sierras  goes  back  to  a  period 
when  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  were  one  ocean,  in  whose 
depths  great  accumulations  of  sand  and  powdered  stone 
were  gathering  and  being  spread  out  in  level  strata. 

It  is  not  easy  to  assign  the  age  in  which  these  sub- 
marine strata  were  begun,  nor  exactly  the  boundaries  of 
the  embryo  continents  from  whose  shores  the  primeval 
breakers  ground  away  sand  and  gravel  enough  to  form 
such  incredibly  thick  deposits. 

It  appears  most  likely  that  the  Sierra  region  was  sub- 
merged from  the  earliest  Palaeozoic,  or  perhaps  even  the 
Azoic,  age.  Slowly  the  deep  ocean  valley  filled  up,  until, 
in  the  late  Triassic  period,  the  uppermost  tables  were  in 
water  shallow  enough  to  drift  the  sands  and  clays  into 
wave  and  ripple  ridges.  With  what  immeasurable  pa- 
tience, what  infinite  deliberation,  has  nature  amassed  the 
materials  for  these  mountains  !  Age  succeeded  age ;  form 
after  form  of  animal  and  plant  life  perished  in  the  unfold- 
ing of  the  great  plan  of  development,  while  the  suspended 
sands  of  that  primeval  sea  sunk  slowly  down  and  were 
stretched  in  level  plains  upon  the  floor  of  stone. 

Early  in  the  Jurassic  period  an  impressive  and  far- 
reaching  movement  of  the  earth's  crust  took  place,  dur- 
ing which  the  bed  of  the  ocean  rose  in  crumpled  waves 
towering  high  in  the  air  and  forming  the  mountain  frame- 
work of  the  Western  United  States.  This  system  of 
upheavals  reached  as  far  east  as  Middle  Wyoming  and 
stretched  from  Mexico  probably  into  Alaska.  Its  numer- 
ous ridges  and  chains,  having  a  general  northeast  trend, 
were  crowded  together  in  one  broad  zone  whose  western 
and  most  lofty  member  is  the  Sierra  N"evada.  During  aU 
of  the  Cretaceous  period,  and  a  part  of  the  Tertiary,  the 
Pacific  beat  upon  its  seaward  foot-hills,  tearing  to  pieces 
the  rocks,  crumbling  and  grinding  the  shores,  and,  drift- 


THE  RANGE.  3 

ing  the  powdered  stone  and  pebbles  beneath  its  waves, 
scattered  them  again  in  layers.  This  siiljmarine  table- 
land fringed  the  whole  base  of  the  range  and  extended 
westward  an  unknown  distance  under  the  sea.  To  this 
perpetual  sea-wearing  of  the  Sierra  ISTevada  base  was  add- 
ed the  detritus  made  by  the  cutting  out  of  canons,  which 
in  great  volumes  continually  poured  into  the  Pacific,  and 
was  arranged  upon  its  bottom  by  currents. 

In  the  late  Tertiary  period  a  chaj)ter  of  very  remarka- 
ble events  occurred.  For  a  second  time  the  evenly  laid 
beds  of  the  sea-bottom"  were  crumpled  by  the  shrinking  of 
the  earth.  The  ocean  flowed  back  into  deeper  and  nar- 
rower limits,  and,  fronting  the  Sierra  Nevada,  appeared 
the  present  system  of  Coast  Eanges.  The  intermediate 
depression,  or  sea-trough  as  I  like  to  call  it,  is  the  valley 
of  California,  and  is  therefore  a  more  recent  continental 
feature  than  the  Sierra  Nevada.  At  once  then  from  the 
folded  rocks  of  the  Coast  Eanges,  from  the  Sierra  summits 
and  the  inland  plateaus,  and  from  numberless  vents  caused 
by  tlie  fierce  dynamical  action,  there  poured  out  a  general 
deluge  of  melted  rock.  From  the  bottom  of  the  sea  sjirung 
up  those  fountains  of  lava  whose  cooled  material  forms 
many  of  the  islands  of  the  Pacific,  and,  all  along  the  coast 
of  America,  like  a  system  of  answering  beacons,  blazed  up 
volcanic  chimneys.  The  rent  mountains  glowed  with 
outpourings  of  molten  stone.  Sheets  of  lava  poured 
down  the  slopes  of  the  Sierra,  covering  an  immense 
proportion  of  its  surface,  only  the  high  granite  and 
metamorphic  peaks  reaching  above  the  deluge.  Eivers 
and  lakes  floated  up  in  a  cloud  of  steam  and  were  gone 
forever.  The  misty  sky  of  these  volcanic  days  glowed 
with  innumerable  lurid  reflections,  and,  at  intervals  along 
the  crest  of  the  range,  great  cones  arose,  blackening  the 
sky  with  their  plumes  of  mineral  smoke.    At  length,  hav- 


4  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

ing  exhausted  themselves,  the  volcanoes  burned  lower  and 
lower,  and,  at  last,  by  far  the  greater  number  went  out 
altogether.  With  a  tendency  to  extremes  which  "  devel- 
,  opment "  geologists  w^ould  hesitate  to  admit,  nature  passed 
under  the  dominion  of  ice  and  snow. 

The  vast  amount  of  ocean  water  which  had  been  vapor- 
ized floated  over  the  land,  condensed  upon  hiU-tops,  chilled 
the  lavas,  and  finally  buried  beneath  an  icy  covering  aU 
the  higher  parts  of  the  mountain  system.  According  to 
well-known  laws,  the  overburdened  summits  unloaded 
themselves  by  a  system  of  glaciers.  The  whole  Sierra 
crest  was  one  pile  of  snow,  from  whose  base  crawled  out 
the  ice-rivers,  wearing  their  bodies  into  the  rock,  sculptur- 
ing as  they  went  the  forms  of  valleys,  and  brightening  the 
surface  of  their  tracks  by  the  friction  of  stones  and  sand 
which  were  bedded,  armor-like,  in  their  nether  surface. 
Having  made  their  way  down  the  sloj)e  of  the  Sierra,  they 
met  a  lowland  temperature  of  sufficient  warmth  to  arrest 
and  waste  them.  At  last,  from  causes  which  are  too  intri- 
cate to  be  discussed  at  present,  they  shrank  slowly  back  into 
the  higher  summit  fastnesses,  and  there  gradually  perished, 
leaving  only  a  crest  of  snow.  The  ice  melted,  and  upon 
the  whole  plateau,  little  by  little,  a  thin  layer  of  soil  accu- 
mulated, and,  replacing  the  snow,  there  sprang  up  a  forest 
of  pines,  whose  shadows  fall  pleasantly  to-day  over  rocks 
which  were  once  torrents  of  lava  and  across  the  burnished 
pathways  of  ice.  Elvers,  pure  and  sparkling,  thread  the 
bottom  of  these  gigantic  glacier  valleys.  The  volcanoes 
are  extinct,  and  the  whole  theatre  of  this  impressive  geo- 
logical drama  is  now  the  most  glorious  and  beautiful  re- 
gion of  America. 

As  the  characters  of  the  Zauherflote  passed  safely 
through  the  trial  of  fire  and  the  desperate  ordeal  of 
water,  so,  through  the  terror  of  volcanic  fires  and  the 


THE  RANGE.  5 

chilling  empire  of  ice,  has  the  great  Sierra  come  into  the 
present  age  of  tranquil  grandeur. 

Five  distinct  periods  divide  the  history  of  the  range. 
First,  the  slow  gathering  of  marine  sediment  within  the 
early  ocean,  during  which  incalculable  ages  were  con- 
sumed. 

Second,  in  the  early  Jurassic  period  this  level  sea-floor 
came  suddenly  to  be  lifted  into  the  air  and  crumpled  in 
folds,  through  whose  yawning  fissures  and  ruptured  axes 
outpoured  wide  zones  of  granite.  Third,  the  volcanic  age 
of  fire  and  steam.  Fourth,  the  glacial  period,  when  the 
Sierras  were  one  broad  field  of  snow,  with  huge  dragons 
of  ice  crawling  down  its  slopes,  and  wearing  their  armor 
into  the  rocks.  Fifth,  the  present  condition,  which  the 
following  chapters  will  describe,  albeit  in  a  desultory  and 
inadequate  manner. 

From  latitude  35°  to  latitude  39°  30'  the  Sierra  lifts  a 
continuous  chain,  the  profile  culminating  in  several  groups 
of  peaks  separated  by  deep  depressed  curves  or  sharp 
notches,  the  summits  varying  from  eight  to  fifteen  thou- 
sand feet ;  seven  to  twelve  thousand  being  the  common 
range  of  passes.  Near  its  southern  extremity,  in  San 
Bernardino  County,  the  range  is  cleft  to  the  base  with 
magnificent  gateways  opening  through  into  the  desert. 
From  Walker's  Pass  for  two  hundred  miles  northward 
the  sky  line  is  more  uniformly  elevated ;  the  passes 
averaging  nine  thousand  feet  high,  the  actual  summit  a 
chain  of  peaks  from  thirteen  to  fifteen  thousand  feet. 
This  serrated  snow  and  granite  outline  of  the  Sierra 
Kevada,  projected  against  the  cold  clear  blue,  is  the  blade 
of  white  teeth  which  suggested  its  Spanish  name. 

Northward  still  the  range  gradually  sinks ;  high  peaks 
covered  with  perpetual  snow  are  rarer  and  rarer.  Its 
summit  rolls  on  in  broken  forest-covered  ridges,  now  and 


b  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

then  overlooked  by  a  solitary  pile  of  metamorphic  or  ir- 
ruptive  rock.  At  length,  in  Northern  California,  where 
it  breaks  down  in  a  compressed  medley  of  ridges,  and 
0]3en,  level  expanses  of  plain,  the  axis  is  maintained  by  a 
line  of  extinct  volcanoes  standing  above  the  lowdand  in 
isolated  positions.  The  most  lofty  of  these,  Mount  Shasta, 
is  a  cone  of  lava  fourteen  thousand  four  hundred  and 
forty  feet  high,  its  broad  base  girdled  with  noble  forests, 
which  give  way  at  eight  thousand  feet  to  a  cap  of  glaciers 
and  snow. 

Beyond  this  to  the  northward  the  extension  of  the 
range  is  quite  difficult  to  definitely  assign,  for,  geologically 
speaking,  the  Sierra  Nevada  system  occupies  a  broad  area 
in  Oregon,  consisting  of  several  prominent  mountain 
groups,  while  in  a  physical  sense  the  chain  ceases  with 
Shasta  ;  the  Cascades,  which  are  the  apparent  topograph- 
ical continuation,  being  a  tertiary  structure  formed  chiefly 
of  lavas  which  have  been  outpoured  long  subsequent  to 
the  main  upheaval  of  the  Sierra. 

It  is  not  easy  to  point  out  the  actual  southern  limit 
either,  because  where  the  mountain  mass  descends  into 
the  Colorado  desert  it  comes  in  contact  with  a  number  of 
lesser  groups  of  hills,  which  ramify  in  many  directions, 
all  losing  themselves  beneath  the  tertiary  and  quartenary 
beds  of  the  desert. 

For  four  hundred  miles  the  Sierras  are  a  definite  ridge, 
broad  and  high,  and  having  the  form  of  a  sea- wave.  But- 
tresses of  sombre -hued  rock,  jutting  at  intervals  from  a 
steep  wall,  form  the  abrupt  eastern  slopes ;  irregular  for- 
ests, in  scattered  gi^owth,  huddle  together  near  the  snow. 
The  lower  declivities  are  barren  spurs,  sinking  into  the 
sterile  flats  of  the  Great  Basin. 

Long  ridges  of  comparatively  gentle  outline  characterize 
the  western  side,  but  this  sloping  table  is  scored  from 


THE  RANGE.  7 

summit  to  base  by  a  system  of  parallel  transverse  canons, 
distant  from  one  another  often  less  than  twenty-five  miles. 
They  are  ordinarily  two  or  three  thousand  feet  deep,  fall- 
ing at  times  in  sheer,  smooth-fronted  cliffs,  again  in  sweep- 
ing curves  like  the  hull  of  a  ship,  again  in  rugged  V-shaped 
gorges,  or  with  irregular,  hilly  flanks  opening  at  last 
through  gateways  of  low,  rounded  foot-hills  out  upon  the 
horizontal  plain  of  the  San  Joaquin  and  Sacramento. 

Every  canon  carries  a  river,  derived  from  constant  melt- 
ing of  the  perpetual  snow,  which  threads  its  way  down 
the  mountain,  —  a  feeble  type  of  those  vast  ice-streams 
and  torrents  that  formerly  discharged  the  summit  accu- 
mulation of  ice  and  snow  while  carving  the  caiions  out 
from  solid  rock.  Nowhere  on  the  continent  of  America  is 
there  more  positive  evidence  of  the  cutting  power  of  rapid 
streams  than  in  these  very  canons.  Although  much  is 
due  to  this  cause,  the  most  impressive  passages  of  the 
Sierra  valleys  are  actual  ruptures  of  the  rock ;  either  the 
engulfment  of  masses  of  great  size,  as  Professor  Whitney 
supposes  in  explanation  of  the  peculiar  form  of  the  Yo- 
semite,  or  a  splitting  asunder  in  yawning  cracks.  From 
the  summits  down  half  the  distance  to  the  plains,  the 
caiions  are  also  carved  out  in  broad,  round  curves  by  gla- 
cial action.  The  summit  gorges  themselves  are  altogether 
the  result  of  frost  and  ice.  Here,  even  yet,  may  be  studied 
the  mode  of  blocking  out  mountain  peaks ;  the  cracks 
riven  by  unequal  contraction  and  expansion  of  the  rock ; 
the  slow^  leverage  of  ice,  the  storm,  the  avalanche. 

The  western  descent,  facing  a  moisture -laden,  aerial 
current  from  the  Pacific,  condenses  on  its  higher  por- 
tions a  great  amount  of  water,  which  has  piled  upon  the 
summits  in  the  form  of  snow,  and  is  absorbed  upon  the 
upper  plateau  by  an  exuberant  growth  of  forest  This 
prevalent  wind,  wdiich  during  most  undisturbed  periods 


8  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

blows  continuously  from  the  ocean,  strikes  first  upon  the 
western  slope  of  the  Coast  Eange,  and  there  discharges, 
both  as  fog  and  rain,  a  very  great  sum  of  moisture ;  but, 
being  ever  reinforced,  it  blows  over  their  crest,  and,  hur- 
rying eastward,  strikes  the  Sierras  at  about  four  thousand 
feet  above  sea-level.  Below  this  line  the  foot-hills  are 
oppressed  by  an  habitual  dryness,  which  produces  a  rusty 
olive  tone  throughout  nearly  all  the  large  conspicuous 
vegetation,  scorches  the  red  soil,  and,  during  the  long 
summer,  overlays  the  whole  region  with  a  cloud  of  dust. 

Dull  and  monotonous  in  color,  there  are,  however,  cer- 
tain elements  of  picturesqueness  in  this  lower  zone.  Its 
oak-clad  hills  wander  out  into  the  great  plain  like  coast 
promontories,  enclosing  yellow,  or  in  spring-time  green, 
bays  of  prairie.  The  hill  forms  are  rounded,  or  stretch  in 
long  longitudinal  ridges,  broken  across  by  the  river  canons. 
Above  this  zone  of  red  earth,  softly  modelled  undulations, 
and  dull,  grayish  groves,  with  a  chain  of  mining  towns, 
dotted  ranches  and  vineyards,  rise  the  swelling  middle 
heights  of  the  Sierras,  a  broad  billowy  plateau  cut  by 
sharp  sudden  canons,  and  sweeping  up,  with  its  dark, 
superb  growth  of  coniferous  forest  to  the  feet  of  the 
summit  peaks. 

For  a  breadth  of  forty  miles,  all  along  the  chain,  is 
spread  this  continuous  belt  of  pines.  From  Walker's  Pass 
to  Sitka  one  may  ride  through  an  unbroken  forest,  and 
will  find  its  character  and  aspect  vary  constantly  in  strict 
accordance  with  the  laws  of  altitude  and  moisture,  each 
of  the  several  species  of  coniferous  trees  taking  its  posi- 
tion with  an  almost  mathematical  precision.  Where  low 
gaps  in  the  Coast  Eange  give  free  access  to  the  western 
wind,  there  the  forest  sweeps  downward  and  encamps  upon 
the  foot-hills,  and,  continuing  northward,  it  advances 
toward  the  coast,  securing  for  itself  over  this  whole  dis- 


THE  RANGE.  9 

tance  about  the  same  physical  conditions ;  so  that  a  tree 
which  finds  itself  at  home  on  the  shore  of  Puget's  Sound, 
in  the  latitude  of  Middle  California  has  climbed  the 
Sierras  to  a  height  of  six  thousand  feet,  finding  there  its 
normal  requirements  of  damp,  cool  air.  As  if  to  econo- 
mize the  whole  surface  of  the  Sierra,  the  forest  is  mainly- 
made  up  of  twelve  species  of  coni ferae,  each  having  its 
own  definitely  circumscribed  limits  of  temperature,  and 
yet  being  able  successively  to  occupy  the  whole  middle 
Sierra  up  to  the  foot  of  the  perpetual  snow.  The  average 
range  in  altitude  of  each  species  is  about  twenty-five  hun- 
dred feet,  so  that  you  pass  imperceptibly  from  the  zone 
of  one  species  into  that  of  the  next.  Frequently  three 
or  four  are  commingled,  their  varied  habit,  characteristic 
foliage,  and  richly  colored  trunks  uniting  to  make  the 
most  stately  of  forests. 

In  the  centre  of  the  coniferous  belt  is  assembled  the 
most  remarkable  family  of  trees.  Those  which  approach 
the  perpetual  snow  are  imperfect,  gnarled,  storm-bent; 
full  of  character  and  suggestion,  but  lacking  the  symmetry, 
the  rich,  living  green,  and  the  great  size  of  their  lower 
neighbors.  In  the  other  extreme  of  the  pine-belt,  grow- 
ing side  by  side  with  foot-liill  oaks,  is  an  equally  imper- 
fect species,  which,  although  attaining  a  very  great  size, 
still  has  the  air  of  an  abnormal  tree.  The  conditions  of 
drought  on  the  one  hand,  and  rigorous  storms  on  the 
other,  injure  and  blast  alike,  while  the  more  verdant 
centre,  furnishing  the  finest  conditions,  produces  a  forest 
whose  profusion  and  grandeur  fill  the  traveller  with  the 
liveliest  admiration. 

Toward  the  south  the  growth  of  the  forest  is  more  open 
and  grove-like,  the  individual  trees  becoming  proportion- 
ally larger  and  reaching  their  highest  development. 
Northward  its  density  increases,  to  the  injury  of  indi- 
1* 


10  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

vidual  pines,  until  the  branches  finally  interlock,  and  at 
last  on  the  shores  of  British  Columbia  the  trunks  are  so 
densely  assembled  that  a  dead  tree  is  held  in  its  upright 
position  by  the  arms  of  its  fellows. 

At  the  one  extremity  are  magnificent  purple  shafts 
ornamented  with  an  exquisitely  delicate  drapery  of  pale 
golden  and  dark  blue  green;  at  the  other  the  slender 
spars  stand  crowded  together  like  the  fringe  of  masts 
girdhng  a  prosperous  port.  The  one  is  a  great  continuous 
grove,  on  whose  sunny  openings  are  innumerable  brilliant 
parterres  ;  the  other  is  a  dismal  thicket,  a  sort  of  gigantic 
canebrake,  void  of  beauty,  dark,  impenetrable,  save  by 
the  avenues  of  streams,  where  one  may  float  for  days  be- 
tween sombre  walls  of  forest.  From  one  to  the  other  of 
these  extremes  is  an  imperceptible  transition ;  only  in  the 
passage  of  hundreds  of  miles  does  the  forest  seem  to 
thicken  northward,  or  the  majesty  of  the  single  trees  ap- 
pear to  be  impaired  by  their  struggle  for  room. 

Near  the  centre  is  the  perfection  of  forest.  At  the 
south  are  the  finest  specimen  trees,  at  the  north  the 
densest  accumulations  of  timber.  In  riding  throughout 
this  whole  region  and  watching  the  same  species  from  the 
glorious  ideal  life  of  the  south  gradually  dwarfed  toward 
the  north,  until  it  becomes  a  mere  wand ;  or  in  climbing 
from  the  scattered  drought-scourged  pines  of  the  foot-hills 
up  through  the  zone  of  finest  vegetation  to  those  summit 
crags,  where,  straggling  against  the  power  of  tempest  and 
frost,  only  a  few  of  the  bravest  trees  succeed  in  clinging 
to  the  rocks  and  to  life,  —  one  sees  with  novel  effect  the 
inexorable  sway  which  climatic  conditions  hold  over  the 
kingdom  of  trees. 

Looking  down  from  the  summit,  the  forest  is  a  closely 
woven  vesture,  which  has  fallen  over  the  body  of  the 
range,  clinging  closely  to  its  form,  sinldng  into  the  deep 


THE   RANGE.  11 

canons,  covering  the  hill-tops  with  even  velvety  folds, 
and  only  lost  here  and  there  where  a  bold  mass  of  rock 
gives  it  no  foothold,  or  where  around  the  margin  of  the 
mountain  lakes  bits  of  alpine  meadow  lie  open  to  the 
sun. 

Along  its  upper  limit  the  forest  zone  grows  thin  and 
irregular ;  black  shafts  of  alpine  pines  and  firs  clustering 
on  sheltered  slopes,  or  climbing  in  disordered  processions 
up  broken  and  rocky  faces.  Higher,  the  last  gnarled 
forms  are  passed,  and  beyond  stretches  the  rank  of  silent, 
white  peaks,  a  region  of  rock  and  ice  lifted  above  the 
limit  of  life. 

In  the  north,  domes  and  cones  of  volcanic  formation 
are  the  summit,  but  for  about  three  hundred  miles  in  the 
south  it  is  a  succession  of  sharp  granite  aiguilles  and 
crags.  Prevalent  among  the  granitic  forms  are  singularly 
perfect  conoidal  domes,  whose  symmetrical  figures,  were 
it  not  for  their  immense  size,  would  impress  one  as  hav- 
insf  an  artificial  finish. 

The  alpine  gorges  are  usually  wide  and  open,  leading 
into  amphitheatres,  whose  walls  are  either  rock  or  drifts 
of  never-melting  snow.  The  sculpture  of  the  summit  is 
very  evidently  giaciaL  Beside  the  ordinary  phenomena 
of  polished  rocks  and  moraines,  the  larger  general  forms 
are  clearly  the  work  of  frost  and  ice  ;  and  although  this 
ice-period  is  only  feebly  represented  to-day,  yet  the  fre- 
quent avalanches  of  winter  and  freshly  scored  mountain 
flanks  are  constant  suggestions  of  the  past. 

Strikingly  contrasted  are  the  two  countries  bordering 
the  Sierra  on  either  side.  Along  the  western  base  is  the 
plain  of  California,  an  elliptical  basin  four  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  long  by  sixty-five  broad;  level,  fertile,  well 
watered,  half  tropically  warmed ;  checkered  with  farms 
of  grain,  ranches  of  cattle,  orchard,  and  vineyard,  and 


12  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

homes  of  commonplace  opulence,  towns  of  bustling  thrift. 
Eivers  flow  over  it,  bordered  by  lines  of  oaks  which  seem 
characterless  or  gone  to  sleep,  when  compared  with  the 
vitality,  the  spring,  and  attitude  of  the  same  species  higher 
up  on  the  foot-hills.  It  is  a  region  of  great  industrial 
future,  within  a  narrow  range,  but  quite  without  charms 
for  the  student  of  science.  It  has  a  certain  impressive 
breadth  when  seen  from  some  overlooking  eminence,  or 
when  in  early  spring  its  brilliant  carpet  of  flowers  lies  as 
a  foreground  over  which  the  dark  pine-land  and  white 
crest  of  the  Sierra  loom  indistinctly. 

From  the  Mexican  frontier  up  into  Oregon,  a  strip  of 
actual  desert  Lies  under  the  east  slope  of  the  great  chain, 
and  stretches  eastward  sometimes  as  far  as  five  hundred 
miles,  varied  by  successions  of  bare  v/hite  ground,  effer- 
vescing under  the  hot  sun  with  alkaline  salts,  ]3lains 
covered  by  the  low  ashy-hued  sage-plant,  high,  barren, 
rocky  ranges,  which  are  folds  of  metamorphic  rocks,  and 
piled-up  lavas  of  bright  red  or  yellow  colors  ;  all  over- 
arched by  a  sky  which  is  at  one  time  of  a  hot  metallic 
brilliancy,  and  again  the  tenderest  of  evanescent  purple 
or  pearl. 

Utterly  opposed  are  the  two  aspects  of  the  Sierras  from 
these  east  and  west  approaches.  I  remember  how  stern 
and  strong  the  chain  looked  to  me  when  I  first  saw  it 
from  the  Colorado  desert. 

It  was  in  early  May,  1866.  My  companion,  Mr.  James 
T.  Gardner,  and  I  got  into  the  saddle  on  the  bank  of  the 
Colorado  Eiver,  and  headed  westward  over  the  road  from 
La  Paz  to  San  Bernardino.  My  mount  was  a  tough,  mag- 
nanimous sort  of  mule,  who  at  all  times  did  his  very  best ; 
that  of  my  friend,  an  animal  still  hardier,  but  altogether 
wanting  in  moral  attributes.  He  developed  a  singular 
antipathy  for  my  mule,  and  utterly  refused  to  march  within 


THE   RANGE.  13 

a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  me  ;  so  that  over  a  wearying  route 
of  three  hundred  miles  we  were  obliged  to  travel  just  be- 
yond the  reach  of  a  shout.  Hour  after  hour,  plodding 
along  at  a  dog-trot,  we  pursued  our  solitary  way  without 
the  spice  of  companionship,  and  altogether  deprived  of 
the  melodramatic  satisfaction  of  loneliness. 

Far  ahead  of  us  a  white  line  traced  across  the  barren 
plain  marked  our  road.  It  seemed  to  lead  to  nowhere, 
except  onward  over  more  and  more  arid  reaches  of  desert. 
Eolling  hills  of  crude  color  and  low  gloomy  contour  rose 
above  the  general  level.  Here  and  there  the  eye  was  ar- 
rested by  a  towering  crag,  or  an  elevated,  rocky  mountain 
group,  whose  naked  sides  sank  down  into  the  desert,  un- 
relieved by  the  shade  of  a  solitary  tree.  The  whole  aspect 
of  nature  was  dull  in  color,  and  gloomy  with  an  all-per- 
vading silence  of  death.  Although  the  summer  had  not 
fairly  opened,  a  torrid  sun  beat  down  with  cruel  severity, 
blinding  the  eye  with  its  brilliance,  and  inducing  a  pain- 
ful, slow  fever.  The  very  plants,  scorched  to  a  crisp,  were 
ready,  at  the  first  blast  of  a  sirocco,  to  be  whirled  away 
and  ground  to  dust.  Certain  bare  zones  lay  swept  clean 
of  the  last  dry  stems  across  our  path,  marking  the  track 
of  whirlwinds.  Water  was  only  found  at  iiitervals  of 
sixty  or  seventy  miles,  and,  when  reached,  was  more  of 
an  aggravation  than  a  pleasure, — bitter,  turbid,  and 
scarce ;  w^e  rode  for  it  all  day,  and  berated  it  all  night, 
only  to  leave  it  at  sunrise  with  a  secret  fear  that  we 
might  fare  worse  next  time. 

About  noon  on  the  third  day  of  our  march,  having 
reached  the  borders  of  the  Chabazon  Valley,  we  emerged 
from  a  rough,  rocky  gateway  in  the  mountains,  and  I 
paused  while  my  companion  made  up  his  quarter  of  a 
mile,  that  we  might  hold  council  and  determine  our 
course,  for  the  water   question  was   becoming   serious  ; 


14  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

springs  which  looked  cool  and  seductive  on  our  maps 
proving  to  be  dried  up  and  obsolete  upon  the  ground. 

A  fresh  mule  and  a  lively  man  get  along,  to  be  sure, 
well  enough  ;  but  after  all  it  is  at  best  with  perfunctory- 
tolerance  on  both  sides,  a  sort  of  diplomatic  interchange  of 
argument,  the  man  suggesting  with  bridle,  or  mildly  ad- 
monishing with  spurs ;  but  when  the  high  contracting 
parties  get  tired,  the  entente  corcliale  goes  to  pieces,  and 
actual  hostilities  open,  in  which  I  never  knew  a  man  to 
come  out  the  better. 

I  had  noticed  a  shambling  uncertainty  during  the  last 
half-hour's  trot,  and  those  invariable  indicators,  "  John's  " 
long,  furry  ears,  either  lopped  diagonally  down  on  one 
side,  or  lay  back  with  ill  omen  upon  his  neck. 

Gardner  reached  me  in  a  few  minutes,  and  we  dis- 
mounted to  rest  the  tired  mules,  and  to  scan  the  landscape 
before  us.  We  were  on  the  margin  of  a  great  basin  whose 
gently  shelving  rim  sank  from  our  feet  to  a  perfectly  level 
plain,  which  stretched  southward  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  bounded  by  a  dim,  level  horizon,  like  the  sea,  but 
walled  in  to  the  west,  at  a  distance  of  about  forty  miles, 
by  the  high  frowning  wall  of  the  Sierras.  This  plain  was 
a  level  floor,  as  white  as  marble,  and  into  it  the  rocky- 
spurs  from  our  own  mountain  range  descended,  like  prom- 
ontories into  the  sea.  Wide,  deeply  indented  white 
bays  wound  in  and  out  among  the  foot-hills,  and,  traced 
upon  the  barren  slopes  of  this  rocky  coast,  was  marked, 
at  a  considerable  elevation  above  the  plain,  the  shore-line 
of  an  ancient  sea,  —  a  white  stain  defining  its  former  mar- 
gin as  clearly  as  if  the  water  had  but  just  receded.  On 
the  dim,  distant  base  of  the  Sierras  the  same  primeval 
beach  could  be  seen.  This  water-mark,  the  level  white 
valley,  and  the  utter  absence  upon  its  surface  of  any 
vegetation,  gaA^e  a  strange  and  weird  aspect  to  the  country. 


THE  RANGE.  15 

as  if  a  vast  tide  had  but  just  ebbed,  and  the  brilliant 
scorching  sun  had  hurriedly  dried  up  its  last  traces  of 
moisture. 

In  the  indistinct  glare  of  the  southern  horizon,  it  needed 
but  slight  aid  from  the  imagination  to  see  a  lifting  and 
tumbling  of  billows,  as  if  the  old  tide  were  coming ;  but 
they  were  only  shudderings  of  heat.  As  we  sat  there 
surveying  this  unusual  scene,  the  white  expanse  became 
suddenly  transformed  into  a  j)lacid  blue  sea,  along  whose 
rippling  shores  were  the  white  blocks  of  roofs,  groups  of 
spire-crowned  villages,  and  cool  stretches  of  green  grove. 
A  soft,  vapory  atmosphere  hung  over  this  sea ;  shadows, 
purple  and  blue,  floated  slowly  across  it,  producing  the 
most  enchanting  effect  of  light  and  color.  The  dreamy 
richness  of  the  tropics,  the  serene  sapphire  sky  of  the 
desert,  and  the  cool,  purple  distance  of  mountains,  were 
grouped  as  by  miracle.  It  was  as  if  Nature  were  about 
to  repay  us  an  hundred-fold  for  the  lie  she  had  given  the 
topographers  and  their  maps. 

In  a  moment  the  illusion  vanished.  It  was  gone, 
leaving  the  white  desert  unrelieved  by  a  shadow ;  a  blaze 
of  white  light  falling  full  on  the  plain  ;  the  sun-struck  air 
reeling  in  whirlwind  columns,  white  wdth  the  dust  of  the 
desert,  up,  up,  and  vanishing  into  the  sky.  Waves  of 
heat  rolled  like  billows  across  the  valley,  the  old  shores 
became  indistinct,  the  whole  lowland  unreal.  Shades  of 
misty  blue  crossed  over  it  and  disappeared.  Lakes  with 
ragged  shores  gleamed  out,  reflecting  the  sky,  and  in  a 
moment  disappeared. 

The  bewildering  effect  of  this  natural  magic,  and  per- 
haps the  feverish  thirst,  produced  the  impression  of  a 
dream,  which  might  have  taken  fatal  possession  of  us, 
but  for  the  importunate  braying  of  Gardner's  mule,  whose 
piteous  discords  (for  he  made  three  noises  at  once)  ban- 


16  MOUNTAINEERING   IN   THE   SIERRA   NEVADA. 

ished  all  hallucination,  and  brought  us  gently  back  from 
the  mysterious  spectacle  to  the  practical  question  of 
water.  We  had  but  one  canteen  of  that  precious  elixir 
left ;  the  elixir  in  this  case  being  composed  of  one  part 
pure  water,  one  part  sand,  one  part  alum,  one  part  sal- 
eratus,  with  liberal  traces  of  Colorado  mud,  representing 
a  very  disgusting  taste,  and  very  great  range  of  geological 
formations. 

To  search  for  the  mountain  springs  laid  down  npon  our 
maps  was  probably  to  find  them  dry,  and  afforded  us  lit- 
tle more  inducement  than  to  chase  the  mirages.  The 
only  well-known  water  was  at  an  oasis  somewhere  on 
the  margin  of  the  Chabazon,  and  should,  if  the  infor- 
mation was  correct,  have  been  in  sight  from  our  resting- 
place. 

We  eagerly  scanned  the  distance,  but  were  unable, 
among  the  phantom  lakes  and  the  ever-changing  illusions 
of  the  desert,  to  fix  upon  any  probable  point.  Indian 
trails  led  out  in  all  directions,  and  our  only  clew  to  the 
right  path  was  far  in  the  northwest,  where,  looming 
against  the  sky,  stood  two  conspicuous  mountain  piles 
lifted  above  the  general  wall  of  the  Sierra,  their  bases 
rooted  in  the  desert,  and  their  precipitous  fronts  rising 
boldly  on  each  side  of  an  open  gateway.  The  two  sum- 
mits, high  above  the  magical  stratum  of  desert  air,  were 
sharply  defined  and  singularly  distinct  in  all  the  details 
of  rock-form  and  snow-field.  From  their  position  we 
knew  them  to  be  walls  of  the  San  Gorgonio  Pass,  and 
through  this  gateway  lay  our  road. 

After  brief  deliberation  we  chose  what  seemed  to  be 
the  most  beaten  road  leading  in  that  direction,  and  I 
mounted  my  mule  and  started,  leaving  my  friend 
patiently  seated  in  his  saddle  waiting  for  the  afflatus 
of  his  mule  to  take  effect.      Thus  we  rode  down  into  the 


THE  RANGE.  17 

desert,  and  hour  after  hour  travelled  silently  on,  straining 
our  eyes  forward  to  a  spot  of  green  which  we  hoped  might 
mark  our  oasis. 

So  incredulous  had  I  become,  that  I  prided  myself  upon 
having  penetrated  the  flimsy  disguise  of  an  unusually  de- 
ceptive mirage,  and  philosophized,  to  a  considerable  ex- 
tent, upon  the  superiority  of  my  reason  over  the  instinct 
of  the  mule,  w^hose  quickened  pace  and  nervous  manner 
showed  him  to  be,  as  I  thought,  a  dupe. 

Whenever  there  comes  to  be  a  clearly  defined  mental 
issue  between  man  and  mule,  the  stubbornness  of  the 
latter  is  the  expression  of  an  adamantine  moral  resolve, 
founded  in  eternal  right.  The  man  is  invariably  wrong. 
Thus  on  this  occasion,  as  at  a  thousand  other  times,  I  was 
obliged  to  own  up  worsted,  and  I  drummed  for  a  while 
with  Spanish  spurs  upon  the  ribs  of  my  conqueror ;  that 
being  my  habitual  mode  of  covering  my  retreat. 

It  was  the  oasis,  and  not  the  mirage.  John  lifted  up 
his  voice,  now  many  days  hushed,  and  gave  out  spasmodic 
gusts  of  baritone,  which  were  as  dry  and  harsh  as  if  he 
had  drunk  mirages  only. 

The  heart  of  Gardner's  mule  relented.  Of  his  OAvn  ac- 
cord he  galloped  up  to  my  side,  and,  for  the  first  time  to- 
gether, we  rode  forward  to  the  margin  of  the  oasis.  Under 
the  palms  we  hastily  threw  off  our  saddles  and  allowed 
the  parched  brutes  to  drink  their  fill.  We  lay  down  in 
the  grass,  drank,  bathed  our  faces,  and  played  in  the 
water  like  children.  AVe  picketed  our  mules  knee-deep 
in  the  freshest  of  grass,  and,  unpacking  our  saddle-bags, 
sent  up  a  smoke  to  heaven,  and  achieved  that  most  pre- 
cious solace  of  the  desert  traveller,  a  pot  of  tea. 

By  and  by  we  plunged  into  the  pool,  which  was  per- 
haps thirty  feet  long,  and  deep  enough  to  give  us  a  pleas- 
ant  swim.      The   water  being   almost  blood-warm,   we 


18  MOUNT AINEEEING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

absorbed  it  in  every  pore,  dilated  like  sponges,  and  came 
out  refreshed. 

It  is  well  worth  having  one's  juices  broiled  out  by  a 
desert  sun  just  to  experience  the  renewal  of  life  from  a 
mild  parboil.  That  About's  "  Man  with  the  Broken  Ear," 
under  this  same  aqueous  renovation,  was  ready  to  fall  in 
love  with  his  granddaughter,  no  longer  appears  to  me 
odd.  Our  oasis  spread  out  its  disk  of  delicate  green, 
sharply  defined  upon  the  enamel-like  desert  which 
stretched  away  for  leagues,  simple,  unbroken,  pathetic. 
Near  the  eastern  edge  of  this  garden,  whose  whole  surface 
covered  hardly  more  than  an  acre,  rose  two  palms,  inter- 
locking their  cool,  dark  foliage  over  the  pool  of  pure 
water.  A  low,  deserted  cabin  with  wide,  overhanging  flat 
roof,  which  had  long  ago  been  thatched  with  palm-leaves, 
stood  close  by  the  trees. 

With  its  isolation,  its  strange  warm  fountain,  its  charm- 
ing vegetation  varied  with  grasses,  trailing  water-plants, 
bright  parterres  in  which  were  minute  flowers  of  turquoise 
blue,  pale  gold,  mauve,  and  rose,  and  its  two  graceful 
palms,  this  oasis  evoked  a  strange  sentiment.  I  have 
never  felt  such  a  sense  of  absolute  and  remote  seclusion ; 
the  hot,  trackless  plain  and  distant  groups  of  mountain 
shut  it  away  from  all  the  world.  Its  humid  and  fragrant 
air  hung  over  us  in  delicious  contrast  with  the  oven- 
breath  through  which  we  had  ridden.  Weary  little  birds 
alighted,  panting,  and  drank  and  drank  again,  without 
showing  the  least  fear  of  us.  Wild  doves  fluttering  down 
bathed  in  the  pool  and  fed  about  among  our  mules. 

After  straining  over  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of 
silent  desert,  hearing  no  sound  but  the  shoes  of  our  mules 
grating  upon  hot  sand,  after  the  white  glare,  and  that 
fever-thirst  which  comes  from  drinking  alkali-water,  it 
was  a  deep  pleasure  to  lie  under  the  palms  and  look  up 


THE  RANGE.  19 

at  their  slow-moving  green  fans,  and  hear  in  those  shaded 
recesses  the  mild,  sweet  twittering  of  our  traveller-friends, 
the  birds,  who  stayed,  like  ourselves,  overcome  with  the 
languor  of  perfect  repose. 

Declining  rapidly  toward  the  west,  the  sun  warned  us 
to  renew  our  journey.  Several  hours'  rest  and  frequent 
deep  draughts  of  water,  added  to  the  feast  of  succulent 
grass,  filled  out  and  rejuvenated  our  saddle-animals.  John 
was  far  less  an  anatomical  specimen  than  when  I  unsad- 
dled him,  and  Gardner's  mule  came  up  to  be  bridled  with 
so  moUified  a  demeanor  that  it  occurred  to  us  as  just  pos- 
sible he  might  forget  his  trick  of  lagging  behind;  but 
with  the  old  tenacity  of  purpose  he  planted  his  forefeet, 
and  waited  till  I  was  well  out  on  the  desert. 

As  I  rode,  I  watched  the  western  prospect.  Completely 
bounding  the  basin  in  that  direction,  rose  the  gigantic  wall 
of  the  Sierra,  its  serrated  line  sharply  profiled  against 
the  evening  sky.  This  dark  barrier  became  more  and 
more  shadowed,  so  that  the  old  shore  line  and  the  low- 
land, where  mountain  and  plain  joined,  were  lost.  The 
desert  melted  in  the  distance  into  the  shadowed  masses 
of  the  Sierra,  which,  looming  higher  and  higher,  seemed 
to  rise  as  the  sun  went  down.  Scattered  snow-fields 
shone  along  its  crest ;  each  peak  and  notch,  every  column 
of  rock  and  detail  of  outline,  were  black  and  sharp. 

On  either  side  of  the  San  Gorgonio  stood  its  two  f^uar- 
dian  peaks,  San  Bernardino  and  San  Jacinto,  capped  with 
rosy  snow,  and  the  pass  itself,  warm  with  western  light, 
opened  hopefully  before  us.  For  a  moment  the  sun  rested 
upon  the  Sierra  crest,  and  then,  slowly  sinking,  suffered 
eclipse  by  its  ragged  black  profile.  Through  the  slow 
hours  of  darkening  twilight  a  strange  ashy  gloom  over- 
spread the  desert.  The  forms  of  the  distant  mountain 
chains  behind  us,  and  the  old  shore  line  upon  the  Sierra 


20  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE  SIERRA  NEVADA. 

base,  stared  at  us  with  a  strange  weird  distinctness.  At 
last  all  was  gray  and  vague,  except  the  black  silhouette  of 
the  Sierras  cut  upon  a  band  of  golden  heaven. 

We  at  length  reached  their  foot  and,  turning  northward, 
rode  parallel  with  the  base  toward  the  San  Gorgonio.  In 
the  moonless  night  huge  rocky  buttresses  of  the  range 
loomed  before  us,  their  feet  plunging  into  the  pale  desert 
floor.  High  upon  their  fronts,  perhaps  five  hundred  feet 
above  us,  was  dimly  traceable  the  white  Hue  of  ancient 
shore.  Over  drifted  hills  of  sand  and  hard  alkaline  clay 
we  rode  along  the  bottom  of  that  primitive  sea.  Between 
the  spurs,  deep  mountain  alcoves,  stretching  back  into 
the  heart  of  the  range,  opened  grand  and  shadoAvy;  far 
at  their  head,  over  crests  of  ridge  and  peak,  loomed  the 
planet  Jupiter.  A  long,  wearisome  ride  of  forty  hours 
brought  us  to  the  open  San  Gorgonio  Pass.  Already 
scattered  beds  of  flowers  tinted  the  austere  face  of  the 
desert ;  tufts  of  pale  grass  grew  about  the  stones,  and  tall 
stems  of  }aicca  bore  up  their  magnificent  bunches  of  blu- 
ish flowers.  Upon  all  the  heights  overhanging  the  road 
gnarled  struggling  cedars  grasp  the  rock,  and  stretch 
themselves  with  frantic  effort  to  catch  a  breath  of  the 
fresh  Pacific  vapor.  It  is  instructive  to  observe  the  dif- 
ference between  those  which  lean  out  into  the  vitalizing 
mnd  of  the  pass,  and  the  fated  few  whose  position  exposes 
them  to  the  dry  air  of  the  desert.  Vigor,  soundness,  nerve 
to  stand  on  the  edge  of  sheer  walls,  flexibility,  sap,  fulness 
of  green  foliage,  are  in  the  one ;  a  shroud  of  dull  olive- 
leaves  scantily  cover  the  thin,  straggling,  bayonet-like 
boughs  of  the  others :  they  are  rigid,  shrunken,  split  to 
the  heart,  pitiful.  We  were  glad  to  forget  them  as  we 
turned  a  last  buttress  and  ascended  the  gentle  acclivity 
of  the  pass. 

Before  us  opened  a  broad  gateway  six  or  seven  miles 


THE  RANGE.  21 


from  wall  to  wall,  in  which  a  mere  swell  of  green  land 
rises  to  divide  the  desert  and  Pacific  slopes.  Flanking 
the  pass  along  its  northern  side  stands  Mount  San  Ber- 
nardino, its  granite  framework  crowded  up  above  the  beds 
of  more  recent  rock  about  its  base,  bearing  aloft  tattered 
fragments  of  pine  forest,  the  summit  piercing  through  a 
marbling  of  perpetual  snow  up  to  the  height  of  ten  thou- 
sand feet.  Fronting  it  on  the  opposite  wall  rises  its  com- 
peer, San  Jacinto,  a  dark  crag  of  lava,  whose  flanks  are 
cracked,  riven,  and  waterworn  into  innumerable  ravines, 
each  catching  a  share  of  the  drainage  from  the  snow-cap, 
and  glistening  with  a  hundred  small  waterfalls. 

Numerous  brooks  unite  to  form  two  rivers,  one  running 
down  the  green  slope  among  ranches  and  gardens  into  the 
blooming  valley  of  San  Bernardino,  the  other  pouring 
eastward,  shrinking  as  it  flows  out  upon  the  hot  sands, 
till,  in  a  few  miles,  the  unslakable  desert  has  drunk  it 
dry. 

There  are  but  few  points  in  America  where  such  ex- 
tremes of  physical  condition  meet.  What  contrasts,  what 
opposed  sentiments,  the  two  views  awakened!  Spread 
out  below  us  lay  the  desert,  stark  and  glaring,  its  rigid 
hill-chains  lying  in  disordered  grouping,  in  attitudes  of  the 
dead.  The  bare  hills  are  cut  out  with  sharp  gorges,  and 
over  their  stone  skeletons  scanty  earth  clings  in  folds, 
like  shrunken  flesh ;  they  are  emaciated  corses  of  once 
noble  ranges  now  lifeless,  outstretched  as  in  a  long  sleep. 
Ghastly  colors  define  them  from  the  aslien  plain  in  which 
their  feet  are  buried.  Far  in  the  south  were  a  procession 
of  whirlwind  columns  slowly  moving  across  the  desert  in 
spectral  dimness.  A  white  light  beat  down,  dispelling 
the  last  trace  of  shadow,  and  above  hung  the  burnished 
shield  of  hard,  pitiless  sky. 

Sinking  to  the  west  from  our  feet  the  gentle  golden- 


22  MOUNTAINEERING   IN   THE   SIERRA   NEVADA. 

green  glacis  sloped  away,  flanked  by  rolling  hills  covered 
with  a  fresh  vernal  carpet  of  grass,  and  relieved  by  scat- 
tered groves  of  dark  oak-trees.  Upon  the  distant  valley 
were  checkered  fields  of  grass  and  grain  just  tinged  with 
the  first  ripening  yellow.  The  bounding  Coast  Eanges 
lay  in  the  cool  shadow  of  a  bank  of  mist  which  drifted  in 
from  the  Pacific,  covering  their  heights.  Flocks  of  bright 
clouds  floated  across  the  sky,  whose  blue  was  palpitating 
with  light,  and  seemed  to  rise  with  infinite  perspective. 
Tranquillity,  abundance,  the  slow,  beautiful  unfolding  of 
plant  life,  dark  shadowed  spots  to  rest  our  tired  eyes 
upon,  the  shade  of  giant  oaks  to  lie  down  under,  while 
listening  to  brooks,  contralto  larks,  and  the  soft  distant 
lowing  of  cattle. 

I  have  given  the  outlines  of  aspect  along  our  ride  across 
the  Chabazon,  omitting  many  amusing  incidents  and  some 
genre  pictures  of  rare  interest  among  the  Kaweah  Indians, 
as  I  wished  simply  to  illustrate  the  relations  of  the  Sierra 
with  the  country  bordering  its  east  base,  —  the  barrier 
looming  above  a  desert. 

In  Nevada  and  California,  farther  north,  this  wall  rises 
more  grandly,  but  its  face  rests  upon  a  modified  form  of 
desert  plains  of  less  extent  than  the  Colorado,  and  usually 
covered  with  sage-plants  and  other  brushy  compositce  of 
equally  pitiful  appearance.  Large  lakes  of  complicated 
saline  waters  are  dotted  under  the  Sierra  shadow,  the 
ancient  terraces  built  upon  foot-hill  and  outlying  volcanic 
ranges  indicating  their  former  expansion  into  inland  seas ; 
and  farther  north  still,  where  plains  extend  east  of  Mount 
Shasta,  level  sheets  of  lava  form  the  country,  and  open 
black,  rocky  channels,  for  the  numerous  branches  of  the 
Sacramento  and  Klamath. 

Approaching  the  Sierras  anywhere  from  the  west,  you 
will  perceive  a  totally  different  topographical  and  climatic 


THE  RANGE.  23 

condition.  From  the  Coast  Eange  peaks  especially  one 
obtains  an  extended  and  impressive  prospect.  I  had 
fallen  behind  the  party  one  May  evening  of  our  march 
across  Pacheco's  Pass,  partly  because  some  wind-bent 
oaks  trailing  almost  horizontally  over  the  wild-oat  sur- 
face of  the  hills,  and  marking,  as  a  living  record,  the 
prevalent  west  wind,  had  arrested  me  and  called  out  com- 
pass and  note-book ;  and  because  there  had  fallen  to  my 
lot  an  incorrigibly  deliberate  mustang  to  whom  I  had 
abandoned  myself  to  be  carried  along  at  his  own  pace, 
comforted  withal  that  I  should  get  in  too  late  to  have  any 
hand  in  the  cooking  of  supper.  We  reached  the  crest,  the 
mustang  coming  to  a  conspicuous  and  unwarrantable  halt ; 
I  yielded,  however,  and  sat  still  in  the  saddle,  looking  out 
to  the  east. 

Brown  foot-hills,  purple  over  their  lower  slopes  with 
"  fil-a-ree "  blossoms,  descended  steeply  to  the  plain  of 
California,  a  great,  inland,  prairie  sea,  extending  for  five 
hundred  miles,  mountain-locked,  between  the  Sierras  and 
coast  hiUs,  and  now  a  broad  arabesque  surface  of  colors. 
Miles  of  orange-colored  flowers,  cloudings  of  green  and 
wdiite,  reaches  of  violet  which  looked  like  the  shadow  of 
a  passing  cloud,  wandering  in  natural  patterns  over  and 
through  each  other,  sunny  and  intense  along  near  our 
range,  fading  in  the  distance  into  pale  bluish-pearl  tones, 
and  divided  by  long,  dimly  seen  rivers,  whose  margins 
were  edged  by  belts  of  bright  emerald  green.  Beyond  rose 
three  hundred  miles  of  Sierra  half  lost  in  light  and  cloud 
and  mist,  the  summit  in  places  sharply  seen  against  a  pale, 
beryl  sky,  and  again  buried  in  warm,  rolling  clouds.  It 
w^as  a  mass  of  strong  light,  soft,  fathomless  shadow^s,  and 
dark  regions  of  forest.  However,  the  three  belts  upon  its 
front  were  tolerably  clear.  Dusky  foot-hills  rose  over  the 
plain  with  a  coppery  gold  tone,  suggesting  the  line  of 


24  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE  SIERRA  NEVADA. 

mining  towns  planted  in  its  rusty  ravines,  —  a  suggestion 
I  was  glad  to  repel,  and  look  higher  into  that  cool,  solemn 
realm  where  the  pines  stand,  green-roofed,  in  infinite 
colonnade.  Lifted  above  the  bustling  industry  of  the 
plains  and  the  melodramatic  mining  theatre  of  the  foot- 
hills, it  has  a  grand,  silent  life  of  its  own,  refreshing  to 
contemplate  even  from  a  hundred  miles  away. 

While  I  looked  the  sun  descended ;  shadows  climbed 
the  Sierras,  casting  a  gloom  over  foot-hill  and  pine,  until 
at  last  only  the  snow  summits,  reflecting  the  evening 
light,  glowed  like  red  lamps  along  the  mountain  wall 
for  hundreds  of  miles.  The  rest  of  the  Sierra  became 
invisible.  The  snow  burned  for  a  moment  in  the  violet 
sky,  and  at  last  went  out. 


II. 

THEOUGH  THE  FOEEST. 

ViSALiA  is  the  name  of  a  ^mall  town  embowered  in 
oaks  upon  the  Tulare  Plain  in  Middle  California,  where 
we  made  our  camp  one  May  evening  of  1864. 

Professor  Whitney,  our  chief,  the  State  Geologist,  had 
sent  us  out  for  a  summer's  campaign  in  the  High  Sierras, 
under  the  lead  of  Professor  William  H.  Brewer,  who  was 
more  sceptical  than  I  as  to  the  result  of  the  mission. 

Several  times  during  the  previous  winter  Mr.  Hoffman 
and  I,  while  on  duty  at  the  Mariposa  gold-mines,  had 
climbed  to  the  top  of  Mount  Bullion,  and  gained,  in  those 
clear  January  days,  a  distinct  view  of  the  High  Sierra, 
ranging  from  the  Mount  Lyell  group  many  miles  south 
to  a  vast  pile  of  white  peaks,  which,  from  our  estimate, 
should  lie  near  the  heads  of  the  King's  and  Kaweah 
rivers.  Of  their  great  height  I  was  fully  persuaded; 
and  Professor  Whitney,  on  the  strength  of  these  few 
observations,  commissioned  us  to  explore  and  survey 
the  new  Alps. 

We  numbered  five  in  camp,  —  Professor  Brewer ;  Mr. 
Charles  F.  Hoffman,  chief  topographer;  Mr.  James  T. 
Gardner,  assistant  surveyor;  myself,  assistant  geologist; 
and  our  man-of-all-work,  to  whom  science  already  owes 
its  debts. 

When  we  got  together  our  outfit  of  mules  and  equip- 
ments of  all  kinds.  Brewer  was  going  to  re-engage,  as  gen- 
eral aid,  a  certain  Dane,  Jan  Hoesch,  who,  besides  being  a 


2G  MOUNTAINEERING  IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA.    , 

faultless  mule-packer,  was  a  rapid  and  successful  financier, 
having  twice,  when  the  field-purse  was  low  and  remit- 
tances delayed,  enriched  us  by  what  he  called  "  deaKng 
bottom  stock  "  in  his  little  evening  games  with  the  honest 
miners.  Not  ungrateful  for  that,  I,  however,  detested 
the  fellow  with  great  cordiality. 

"  If  I  don't  take  him,  will  you  be  responsible  for  pack- 
ing mules  and  for  daily  bread  ? "  said  Brewer  to  me  the 
morning  of  our  departure  from  Oakland.  "  I  will." 
"  Then  we  11  take  your  man  Cotter ;  only,  when  the 
pack-saddles  roU  under  the  mules'  bellies,  I  shall  light 
my  pipe  and  go  botanizing.     Sabe  ?  " 

So  my  friend,  Eichard  Cotter,  came  into  the  service, 
and  the  accomplished  but  filthy  Jan  opened  a  poker  and 
rum  shop  on  one  of  the  San  Francisco  wharves,  where  he 
still  mixes  drinks  and  puts  up  jobs  of  "bottom  stock." 
Secretly  I  longed  for  him  as  we  came  down  the  Pacheco 
Pass,  the  packs  having  loosened  with  provoking  frequency. 
The  animals  of  our  small  exploring  party  were  upon  a 
footing  of  easy  social  equality  with  us.  All  were  excellent 
except  mine.  The  choice  of  Hobson  (whom  I  take  to 
have  been  the  youngest  member  of  some  company)  falling 
naturally  to  me,  I  came  to  be  possessed  of  the  only  hope- 
less animal  in  the  band.  Old  Slum,  a  dignified  roan 
mustang  of  a  certain  age,  with  the  decorum  of  years  and 
a  conspicuous  economy  of  force  retained  not  a  few  of  the 
affectations  of  youth,  such  as  snorting  theatrically,  and 
shying,  though  with  absolute  safety  to  the  rider,  Profes- 
sor Brewer.  Hoffman's  mount  was  a  young  half-breed, 
full  of  fire  and  gentleness.  The  mare  Bess,  my  friend 
Gardner's  pet,  was  a  light  bay  creature,  as  full  of  spring 
and  perception  as  her  sex  and  species  may  be.  A  rare 
mule,  Cate,  carried  Cotter.  Nell  and  Jim,  two  old  geo- 
logical mules,  branded  with  Mexican  hieroglyphics  from 
head  to  tail,  were  bearers  of  the  loads. 


THROUGH  THE   FOREST.  27 

My  Buckskin  was  incorrigibly  bad.  To  begin  with, 
his  anatomy  was  desultory  and  incoherent,  the  maximum 
of  physical  effort  bringing  about  a  slow,  shambling  gait 
quite  unendurable.  He  was  further  cursed  with  a  brain 
wanting  the  elements  of  logic,  as  evinced  by  such  non 
scquiturs  as  shying  insanely  at  wisps  of  hay,  and  stam- 
peding beyond  control  when  I  tried  to  tie  him  to  a  load 
of  grain.  My  sole  amusement  with  Buckskin  grew  out 
of  a  psychological  peculiarity  of  his,  namely,  the  unusual 
slowness  with  which  waves  of  sensation  were  propelled 
inward  toward  the  brain  from  remote  parts  of  his  periph- 
ery. A  dig  of  the  spurs  administered  in  the  flank  passed 
unnoticed  for  a  period  of  time  varying  from  twelve  to 
thirteen  seconds,  till  the  protoplasm  of  the  brain  received 
the  percussive  wave,  then,  with  a  suddenness  which  I 
never  wholly  got  over,  he  would  dash  into  a  trot,  nearly 
tripping  himself  up  with  his  own  astonishment. 

A  stroke  of  good  fortune  completed  our  outfit  and  my 
happiness  by  bringing  to  Visalia  a  Spaniard  who  was 
under  some  manner  of  financial  cloud.  His  horse  was 
offered  for  sale,  and  quickly  bought  for  me  by  Professor 
Brewer.  We  named  him  Kaweah,  after  the  river  and  its 
Indian  tribe.  He  was  young,  strong,  fleet,  elegant,  a  pat- 
tern of  fine  modelling  in  every  part  of  his  bay  body  and 
fine  black  legs  ;  every  way  good,  only  fearfully  wild,  with 
a  blaze  of  quick  electric  light  in  his  dark  eye. 

Shortly  after  sunrise  one  fresh  morning  we  made  a 
point  of  putting  the  packs  on  very  securely,  and,  getting 
into  our  saddles,  rode  out  toward  the  Sierras. 

The  group  of  farms  surrounding  Visalia  is  gathered 
within  a  belt  through  which  several  natural,  and  many 
more  artificial,  channels  of  the  Kaweah  flow.  Groves  of 
large,  dark-foliaged  oaks  follow  this  irrigated  zone ;  the 
roads,  nearly  always  in  shadow,  are   flanked   by  small 


28  MOUNT AINEEEING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

ranch-houses,  fenced  in  with  rank  jungles  of  weeds  and 
rows  of  decrepit  pickets. 

There  is  about  these  fresh  ruins,  these  specimens  of 
modern  decay,  an  air  of  social  decomposition  not  j)leasant 
to  perceive.  Freshly  built  houses,  still  untinted  by  time, 
left  in  rickety  disorder,  half-finished  windows,  gates 
broken  down  or  unhinged,  and  a  kind  of  sullen  neglect 
staring  everywhere.  What  more  can  I  say  of  the  people 
than  that  they  are  chiefly  Southern  immigrants  who  sub- 
sist upon  pork  ? 

Eare  exceptions  of  comfort  and  thrift  shine  out  some- 
times, with  neat  dooryards,  well-repaired  dwellings,  and 
civilized-looking  children.  In  these  I  never  saw  the 
mother  of  the  family  sitting  cross-legged,  smoking  a  corn- 
cob pipe,  nor  the  father  loafing  about  with  a  fiddle  or 
shot-gun. 

Our  backs  were  now  turned  to  this  farm-belt,  the  road 
leading  us  out  upon  the  open  plain  in  our  first  full 
sight  of  the  Sierras. 

Grand  and  cool  swelled  up  the  forest ;  sharp  and  rugged 
rose  the  wave  of  white  peaks,  their  vast  fields  of  snow 
rolling  over  the  summit  in  broad  shining  masses. 

Sunshine,  exuberant  vegetation,  brilliant  plant  life,  oc- 
cupied our  attention  hour  after  hour  until  the  middle 
of  the  second  day.  At  last,  after  climbing  a  long,  weary 
ascent,  we  rode  out  of  the  dazzling  light  of  the  foot- 
hills into  a  region  of  dense  woodland,  the  road  winding 
through  avenues  of  pines  so  tall  that  the  late  evening 
light  only  came  down  to  us  in  scattered  rays.  Under  the 
deep  shade  of  these  trees  we  found  an  air  pure  and  grate- 
fully cool.  Passing  from  the  glare  of  the  open  country 
into  the  dusky  forest,  one  seems  to  enter  a  door,  and  ride 
mto  a  vast  covered  hall.  The  whole  sensation  is  of  being 
roofed  and  enclosed.     You  are  never  tired  of  gazing  down 


THROUGH  THE   FOREST.  29 

long  vistas,  where,  in  stately  groups,  stand  tall  shafts  of 
pine.  Columns  they  are,  each  with  its  own  characteristic 
tinting  and  finish,  yet  all  standing  together  with  tlie  air 
of  relationship  and  harmony.  Feathery  branches,  trimmed 
with  living  green,  wave  through  the  upper  air,  opening 
broken  glimpses  of  the  far  blue,  and  catching  on  their 
polished  surfaces  reflections  of  the  sun.  Broad  streams 
of  light  pour  in,  gilding  purple  trunks  and  falling  in  bright 
pathways  along  an  undulating  floor.  Here  and  there  are 
wide  open  spaces  around  which  the  trees  group  them- 
selves in  majestic  ranks. 

Our  eyes  often  ranged  upward,  the  long  shafts  lead- 
ing the  vision  up  to  green,  lighted  spires,  and  on  to  the 
clouds.  All  that  is  dark  and  cool  and  grave  in  color, 
the  beauty  of  blue  umbrageous  distance,  all  the  sudden 
brilliance  of  strong  local  lights  tinted  upon  green  boughs 
or  red  and  fluted  shafts,  surround  us  in  ever-changing 
combination  as  we  ride  along  these  winding  roadways  of 
the  Sierra. 

We  had  marched  a  few  hours  over  high,  rolling 
wooded  ridges,  when  in  the  late  afternoon  we  reached  the 
brow  of  an  eminence  and  began  to  descend.  Looking 
over  the  tops  of  the  trees  beneath  us  we  saw  a  mountain 
basin  fifteen  hundred  feet  deep  surrounded  by  a  rim  of 
pine-covered  hills.  An  even  unbroken  wood  covered 
these  sweeping  slopes  down  to  the  very  bottom,  and  in 
the  midst,  open  to  the  sun,  lay  a  circular  green  meadow, 
about  a  mile  in  diameter. 

As  we  descended,  side  wood-tracks,  marked  by  the 
deep  ruts  of  timber  wagons,  joined  our  road  on  either 
side,  and  in  the  course  of  an  hour  we  reached  the  basin 
and  saw  the  )distant  roofs  of  Thomas's  Saw-Mill  Eanch. 
We  crossed  the  level  disk  of  meadow,  fording  a  clear, 
cold  mountain  stream,  flowing,  as  the  best  brooks  do. 


80  MOUNT AINEEEING  IN  THE   SIEERA  NEVADA. 

over  clean  white  granite  sand,  and  near  tlie  northern  mar- 
gin of  the  valley,  upon  a  slight  eminence,  in  the  edge  of 
a  magnificent  forest,  pitched  our  camp. 

The  hills  to  the  westward  already  cast  down  a  somhre 
shadow,  which  fell  over  the  eastern  hills  and  across  the 
meadow,  dividing  the  basin  half  in  golden  and  half  in 
azure  green.  The  tall  young  grass  was  living  with  pur- 
ple and  white  flowers.  This  exquisite  carpet  sweeps  up 
over  the  bases  of  the  hills  in  green  undulations,  and  strays 
far  into  the  forest  in  irregular  fields.  A  little  brooklet 
passed  close  by  our  camp  and  flowed  down  the  smooth 
green  glacis  which  led  from  our  little  eminence  to  the 
meadow.  Above  us  towered  pines  two  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  hio'h,  their  straio'ht  fluted  trunks  smooth  and  without 
a  branch  for  a  hundred  feet.  Above  that,  and  on,  to  the 
very  tops,  the  green  branches  stretched  out  and  interwove, 
until  they  spread  a  broad  leafy  canopy  from  colunm  to 
column. 

Professor  Brewer  determined  to  make  this  camp  a  home 
for  the  week,  during  which  we  were  to  explore  and  study 
all  about  the  neighborhood.  We  were  on  a  great  granite 
spur  sixty  miles  from  east  to  west  by  twenty  miles  wide, 
which  lies  between  the  Kaweah  and  King's  Eiver  canons. 
Eising  in  bold  sweeps  from  the  i)lain,  this  ridge  joins 
the  Sierra  summit  in  the  midst  of  a  high  group.  Expe- 
rience had  taught  us  that  the  canons  are  impassable  by 
animals  for  any  great  distance  ;  so  the  plan  of  campaign 
was  to  find  a  way  up  over  the  rocky  crest  of  the  spur  as 
far  as  mules  could  go. 

In  tlie  little  excursions  from  this  camp,  which  were 
made  usually  on  horseback,  we  became  acquainted  with 
the  forest,  and  got  a  good  knowledge  of  the  topography 
of  a  considerable  region.  On  the  heights  above  King's 
Canon  are  some  singularly  fine  assembhes  of  trees.     Cot- 


THROUGH   THE   FOREST.  31 

ter  and  I  had  ridden  all  one  morning  northeast  from 
camp  under  the  shadowy  roof  of  forest,  catching  but 
occasional  glimpses  out  over  the  plateau,  luitil  at  last  we 
emerged  upon  the  bare  surface  of  a  ridge  of  granite,  and 
came  to  the  brink  of  a  sharp  preci]3ice.  Eocky  crags 
lifted  just  east  of  us.  The  hour  devoted  to  climbing  them 
proved  well  spent. 

A  single  little  family  of  alpine  firs  growing  in  a  niche 
in  the  granite  surface,  and  partly  sheltered  by  a  rock, 
made  the  only  shadow,  and  just  shielded  us  from  the 
intense  light  as  we  lay  down  by  their  roots.  North  and 
south,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  heaved  the  broad 
green  waves  of  plateau,  swelling  and  merging  through 
endless  modulation  of  slope  and  form. 

Conspicuous  upon  the  horizon,  about  due  east  of  us,  was 
a  tall  pyramidal  mass  of  granite,  trimmed  with  buttresses 
which  radiated  down  from  its  crest,  each  one  ornamented 
with  fantastic  spires  of  rock.  Between  the  buttresses 
lay  stripes  of  snow,  banding  the  pale  granite  peak  from 
crown  to  base.  Upon  the  north  side  it  fell  off,  grandly 
precipitous,  into  the  deep  upper  canon  of  King's  Eiver. 
This  gorge,  after  uniting  a  number  of  immense  rocky 
amphitheatres,  is  carved  deeply  into  the  granite  two 
and  three  tliousand  feet.  In  a  slightly  curved  line  from 
the  summit  it  cuts  westward  through  the  plateau,  its 
walls,  for  the  most  part,  descending  in  sharp  bare 
slopes,  or  lines  of  ragged  debris,  the  resting-place  of  pro- 
cessions of  pines.  AVe  ourselves  were  upon  the  brink  of 
the  south  wall ;  three  thousand  feet  below  us  lay  the 
valley,  a  narrow,  winding  ribbon  of  green,  in  which,  here 
and  there,  gleamed  still  reaches  of  the  river.  Wherever 
the  bottom  widened  to  a  quarter  or  half  a  mile,  green 
meadows  and  extensive  groves  occupied  the  level  region. 
Upon  every  niche  and  crevice  of  the  walls,  up  and  down 


32  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

sweeping  curves  of  easier  descent,  were  grouped  black 
companies  of  trees. 

Tlie  behavior  of  the  forest  is  observed  most  interestingly 
from  these  elevated  points  above  the  general  face  of  the 
table-land.  All  over  the  gentle  undulations  of  the  more 
level  country  sweeps  an  unbroken  covering  of  trees. 
Eeaching  the  edge  of  the  canon  precipices,  they  stand 
out  in  bold  groups  upon  the  brink,  and  climb  all  over 
the  more  ragged  and  broken  surfaces  of  granite.  Only 
the  most  smooth  and  abrupt  precipices  are  bare.  Here 
and  there  a  little  shelf  of  a  foot  or  two  in  width,  cracked 
into  the  face  of  the  bluff,  gives  foothold  to  a  family  of 
pines,  who  twist  their  roots  into  its  crevices  and  thrive. 
With  no  soil  from  which  the  roots  may  drink  up  moisture 
and  absorb  the  slowly  dissolved  mineral  particles,  they 
live  by  breathing  alone,  moist  vapors  from  the  river  be- 
low and  the  elements  of  the  atmosphere  affording  them 
the  substance  of  life. 

I  believe  no  one  can  study  from  an  elevated  lookout 
the  length  and  depth  of  one  of  these  great  Sierra  canons 
without  asking  himself  some  profound  geological  ques- 
tions. Your  eyes  range  along  one  or  the  other  wall. 
The  average  descent  is  immensely  steep.  Here  and  there 
side  ravines  break  down  the  rim  in  deep  lateral  gorges. 
Again,  the  wall  advances  in  sharp,  salient  precipices,  ris- 
ing two  or  three  thousand  feet,  sheer  and  naked,  with  all 
the  air  of  a  recent  fracture.  At  times  the  two  walls 
approach  each  other,  standing  in  perpendicular  gateways. 
Toward  the  summits  the  canon  grows,  perhaps,  a  little 
broader,  and  more  and  more  prominent  lateral  ravines 
open  into  it,-  until  at  last  it  receives  the  snow  drainage 
of  the  summit,  which  descends  through  broad,  rounded 
amphitheatres,  separated  from  each  other  by  sharp,  castel- 
lated snow-clad  ridges. 


THEOUGH  THE  FOREST.  33 

Looking  down  the  course  of  the  river  vertical  pre- 
cipices are  seen  to  be  less  and  less  frequent,  the  walls 
inclining  to  each  other  more  and  more  gently,  until  they 
roll  out  on  the  north  and  south  in  round  wooded  ridges. 
Solid,  massive  granite  forms  the  material  throughout  its 
whole  length.  If  you  study  the  topography  upon  the 
plateaus  above  one  of  these  canons,  you  w^ill  see  that  the 
ridges  upon  one  side  are  reproduced  in  the  other,  as  if  the 
outlines  of  wavy  table-land  topography  had  been  deter- 
mined before  the  great  canon  was  made. 

It  is  not  easy  to  propose  a  solution  for  this  peculiar 
structure.  I  think,  however,  it  is  safe  to  say  that  actual 
rending  asunder  of  the  mountain  mass  determined  the 
main  outlines.  Upon  no  other  theory  can  we  account 
for  those  blank  walls.  Where,  in  the  upper  course  of  the 
canon,  they  descend  in  a  smooth,  ship-like  curve,  and  the 
rocks  bear  upon  their  curved  sides  the  markings  and  stri- 
ations  of  glaciers,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  those  terrible  ice- 
engines  gradually  modified  their  form;  and  toward  the 
foot-hills  the  forces  of  aqueous  erosion  are  clearly  indi- 
cated in  the  rounded  forms  and  broad  undulations  of  the 
two  banks. 

Looking  back  from  our  isolated  crag  in  the  direction 
of  our  morning's  ride,  we  saw  the  green  hills  break  down 
into  the  basin  of  Thomas's  Mill,  but  the  disk  of  meadow 
lay  too  deep  to  be  seen.  Forests,  dense  and  unbroken, 
grew  to  the  base  of  our  cliff.  The  southern  sunlight 
reflected  from  its  polished  foliage  gave  to  tliis  whole  sea 
of  spiry  tops  a  peculiar  golden  green,  through  which  we 
looked  down  among  giant  red  and  purple  trunks  upon 
beds  of  brioht  mountain  flowers.  As  the  afternoon 
lengthened,  the  summit  rank  of  peaks  glowed  warmer 
and  warmer  under  inclined  rays.  The  granite  flushed 
with  rosy  brightness  between  the  fields  of  glittering 
2*  c 


34  MOUNTAINEERING   IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

golden  snow.  A  mild,  pearly  haziness  came  gradually 
to  obscure  the  ordinary  cold-blue  sky,  and,  settling  into 
canon  depths  and  among  the  vast  open  corridors  of  the 
summit,  veiled  the  savage  sharpness  of  their  details. 

I  lay  several  hours  sketching  the  outlines  of  the  sum- 
mit, studying  out  the  systems  of  alpine  drainage,  and 
getting  acquainted  with  the  long  chain  of  peaks,  that  I 
might  afterward  know  them  from  other  points  of  view. 
I  became  convinced  from  the  great  apparent  elevation 
and  the  wide  fields  of  snow  that  we  had  not  formerly 
deceived  ourselves  as  to  their  great  height.  Warned  at 
length  by  the  deepening  shadow  in  the  King's  Canon,  by 
the  heightened  glow  suffusing  the  peaks,  and  the  deep 
purple  tone  of  the  level  expanse  of  forest,  all  forerunners 
of  twilight,  w^e  quitted  our  eyry,-  crept  carefully  down 
over  half-balanced  blocks  of  debris  to  the  horses,  and, 
mounting,  were  soon  headed  homeward,  in  what  seemed, 
by  contrast,  to  be  almost  a  nocturnal  darkness. 

Wherever  the  ground  opened  level  before  us  we  gave 
our  horses  the  rein,  and  went  at  a  free  gallop  through  the 
forest ;  the  animals  realized  that  they  were  going  home, 
and  pressed  forward  with  the  greatest  spirit.  A  good-sized 
log  across  our  route  seemed  to  be  an  object  of  special 
amusement  to  Kaweah,  who  seized  the  bits  in  his  teeth 
and,  dancing  up,  crouched,  and  cleared  it  with  a  mighty 
bound,  in  a  manner  that  was  indeed  inspiring,  yet  left 
one  with  the  impression  that  once  was  enough  of  that 
sort  of  thin2[.  Fearins^  some  manner  of  hostilities  with 
him,  I  did  my  very  best  to  quiet  Kaweah,  and  by  the  end 
of  an  hour  had  gotten  him  down  to  a  sensible,  serious 
walk.  I  noticed  that  he  insisted  upon  following  his 
tracks  of  the  morning's  march,  and  was  not  contented 
unless  I  let  him  go  on  the  old  side  of  every  tree.  Thus  I 
became  so  thoroughly  convinced  of  his  faculty  to  follow  the 


THROUGH   THE   FOREST.  35 

morning's  trail  that  I  yielded  all  control  of  him,  giving 
myself  up  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  dimly  lighted  wood. 

As  the  sun  at  last  set,  the  shadow  deepened  into  an 
impressive  gloom ;  mighty  trunks,  rising  into  that  dark 
region  of  interlocking  boughs,  only  vaguely  defined  them- 
selves against  the  twilight  sky.  We  could  no  longer  see 
our  tracks,  and  the  confused  rolling  topography  looked 
alike  whichever  way  we  turned.  Kaweah  strode  on  in  his 
confident  way,  and  I  was  at  last  confirmed  as  to  his 
sagacity  by  passing  one  after  another  the  objects  we  had 
noted  in  the  morning.  Thus  for  a  couple  of  hours  we 
rode  in  the  darkness.  At  length  the  rising  moon  poured 
down  through  broken  tents  of  foliage  its  uncertain  silvery 
light,  which  had  the  effect  of  deepening  all  the  shadows, 
and  lighting  up  in  the  strangest  manner  little  local  points. 
Here  and  there  ahead  of  us  the  lighted  trees  rose 
like  pillars  of  an  ancient  temple.  The  forest,  which  an 
hour  before  overpowered  us  with  a  sense  of  its  dark 
enclosure,  opened  on  in  distant  avenues  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach.  As  we  rode  through  denser  or  more  open 
passages  the  moon  sailed  into  clear  violet  sky,  or  was 
obscured  again  by  the  sharply  traced  crests  of  the  pines. 
Ravines,  dark  and  unfathomable,  yawned  before  us,  their 
flanks  half  in  shadow,  half  in  weird  uncertain  light. 
Blocks  of  white  granite  gleamed  here  and  there  in  con- 
trast  with  the  general  depth  of  shade.  At  last,  descend- 
ing a  hill,  there  shone  before  us  a  red  light ;  the  horses 
plunged  forward  at  a  gallop,  and  in  a  moment  we  were 
in  camp.  After  this  ride  we  supped,  relishing  our  moun- 
tain fare,  and  then  lay  down  upon  blankets  before  a  camp- 
fire  for  the  mountaineer's  short  evening.  One  keeps 
awake  under  stimulus  of  the  sparkling,  frosty  air  for 
a  while,  and  then  turns  in  for  the  night,  sleeping  till 
daybreak  with  a  light  sound  sleep. 


36  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

The  charm  of  this  forest  life,  in  spite  of  its  scientific 
interest,  and  the  constant  succession  of  exquisite,  highly 
colored  scenes,  would  string  one's  feelings  up  to  a  high 
though  monotonous  key,  were  it  not  for  the  half-droll, 
half-pathetic  genre  picturesqueness  which  the  Digger 
Indians  introduce.  Upon  every  stream  and  on  all  the 
finer  camp-grounds  throughout  the  whole  forest  are  found 
these  families  of  Indians  who  migrate  up  here  during  the 
hot  weather,  fishing,  hunting,  gathering  pine -nuts,  and 
lying  off  with  that  peculiar,  bummerish  ease,  which,  as- 
sociated with  natural  mock  dignity,  throws  about  them  a 
singular,  and  not  unfrequently  deep  interest. 

I  never  forget  certain  bright  June  sunrises  when  I  have 
seen  the  Indian  'paterfamilias  gather  together  his  little 
tribe  and  address  them  in  the  heroic  style  concerning  the 
vital  importance  of  the  grasshopper  crop,  and  the  rever- 
ence due  to  the  Giver  of  manzanita  berries.  You  come 
upon  them  as  you  travel  the  trails,  proud-stepping 
"  braves "  leading  the  way,  unhampered  and  free,  fol- 
lowed by  troops  of  submissive  squaws  loaded  down  with 
immense  packages  and  baskets.  Their  death  and  burial 
customs  too  have  elements  of  weird  romantic  interest. 

I  remember  one  mornino-  when  I  was  awakened  before 
dawn  by  wild  unearthly  shrieks  ringing  through  the 
forest  and  coming  back  again  in  plaintive  echoes  from 
the  hills  all  about.  Beyond  description  wild,  these  wails 
of  violent  grief  followed  each  other  with  regular  cadence, 
dying  away  in  long  despairing  sobs.  With  a  marvellous 
regularity  they  recurred,  never  varying  the  simple  refrain. 
My  curiosity  was  aroused  so  far  as  to  get  me  out  of  my 
blankets,  and,  after  a  hurried  bath  in  an  icy  stream,  I 
joined  my  mountaineer  acquaintance,  Jerry,  who  was  en 
route  to  the  rancheria,  "  to  see,"  as  he  expressed  it,  "  them 
tar-heads  howl."     It  seems  my  friend  Buck,  the  Indian 


THROUGH  THE  FOREST.  37 

chiei,  had  the  night  before  lost  his  wife,  Sally  the  Old, 
and  the  shouts  came  from  professional  mourners  hired  by 
her  family  to  prepare  the  body  and  do  up  the  necessary 
amount  of  grief.  Old  widows  and  superannuated  wives 
who  have  outlived  other  forms  of  usefulness  gladly  enter 
this  singular  profession.  They  cut  their  hair  short,  and 
with  each  new  death  plaster  on  a  fresh  cap  of  pitch  and 
ashes,  daub  the  face  with  spots  of  tar,  and,  in  general, 
array  themselves  as  funeral  experts. 

The  rancheria  was  astir  when  we  arrived.  It  was  a 
mere  group  of  half  a  dozen  smoky  hovels,  built  of  pine 
bark  propped  upon  cones  of  poles,  and  arranged  in  a 
semicircle  within  the  edge  of  the  forest,  fronting  on  a 
brook  and  meadow.  Jerry  and  I  leaned  our  backs  against 
a  large  tree,  and  watched  the  group. 

Buck's  shanty  was  deserted,  the  body  of  his  wife 
lying  outside  upon  a  blanket,  being  prepared  by  two  of 
these  funeral  hags.  Buck  himself  was  quietly  stuffing 
his  stomach  with  a  breakfast  of  venison  and  acorns, 
which  were  handed  him  at  brief  intervals  by  several 
sympathizing  squaws. 

Turning  to  Jerry  with  a  countenance  of  stolid  serious- 
ness, he  laconically  remarked,  "  My  woman  she  die ! 
Very  bad.  To-night,  sundown"  (pointing  to  the  sun), 
"she  burn  up."  Meanwhile  the  tar-heads  rolled  Sally 
the  Old  over  and  over,  all  the  while  alternately  howling 
the  same  dismal  phrase.  Indian  relatives  and  friends, 
having  the  general  air  of  animated  rag-bags,  arrived  occa- 
sionally, and  sat  down  in  silence  at  a  fire  a  little  removed 
from  the  other  Diggers,  never  once  saluting  them. 

As  we  walked  back  to  our  camp,  I  remarked  on  the 
stolid,  cruel  expression  of  Buck's  face,  but  Jerry,  to 
my  surprise,  bade  me  not  judge  too  hastily.  He  went  on 
to  explain  that   Indians  have  just  as  deep  and  tender 


.'W7580 


38  MOUNTAINEEEING   IN  THE   SIERKA  NEVADA. 

attachments,  just  as  much  good  sense,  and,  to  wind  up 
with,  "as  much  human  into  'em,  as  we  edicated  white 
folks." 

His  own  squaw  had  instilled  this  into  Jerry's  naturally- 
sentimental  and  credulous  heart,  so  I  refrained  from  ex- 
pressing my  convictions  concerning  Indians,  which,  I  own, 
were  formerly  tinged  with  the  most  sanguinary  Caucasian 
prejudice. 

Jerry  came  for  me  by  appointment  just  before  sunset, 
and  we  walked  leisurely  across  the  meadow,  and  under 
lengthening  pine  shadows,  to  the  rancheria.  No  one  was 
stirring.  Buck  and  the  two  vicarious  mourners  sat  in 
his  lodge  door  uttering  low,  half-audible  gToans.  In  the 
opening  before  the  line  of  huts  a  low  pile  of  dry  logs 
had  been  carefully  laid,  upon  which,  outstretched,  and 
wrapped  in  a  red  blanket,  lay  the  dead  form  of  Sally 
the  Old,  her  face  covered  in  careful  folds.  Upon  her 
heart  were  a  grass-woven  water-bowl  and  her  last  pap- 
poose  basket. 

Just  as  the  sun  sank  to  the  horizon,  one  tar-head 
stepped  out  in  front  of  the  funeral  pile,  lifted  up  both 
hands,  and  gazed  steadily  and  silently  at  the  sun.  She 
might  have  been  five  minutes  in  this  statuesque  position, 
her  face  full  of  strange,  half-animal  intensity  of  expres- 
sion, her  eyes  glittering,  the  whole  hard  figure  glowing 
with  a  deep  bronze  reflection.  Suddenly  she  sprang  back 
with  the  old  wild  shriek,  seized  a  brand  from  one  of  the 
camp-fires,  and  lighted  the  funeral  heap,  when  all  the 
Indians  came  out,  and  grouped  themselves  in  little  knots 
around  it.  Sally  the  Old's  children  clung  about  an 
old  mummy  of  a  squaw,  who  squatted  upon  the  ground 
and  rocked  her  body  to  and  fro,  making  a  low  cry  as  of 
an  animal  in  pain.  All  the  Indians  looked  serious ;  a 
group,  who  Jerry  said  were  relatives,  seemed  stupefied 


THROUGH  THE   FOREST.  39 

with  grief.  Upon  a  few  faces  falling  tears  glistened  in 
tlie  light  of  the  fire,  which  now  shot  up  red  tongues  high 
in  the  air,  lighting  up  with  weird  distinctness  every 
feature  of  the  whole  grouj).  Flames  slowly  lapped  over, 
consuming  the  blanket,  and  caught  the  willow  papppose 
basket.  When  Buck  saw  this,  the  tears  streamed  from 
his  eyes ;  he  waved  his  hands  eloquently,  looking  up  to 
heaven,  and  uttered  heart-broken  sobs.  The  pappoose 
basket  crackled  for  a  moment,  flashed  into  a  blaze,  and 
was  gone.  The  two  old  women  yelled  their  sharp  death- 
cry,  dancing,  posturing,  gesticulating  toward  the  fire,  and 
in  slow  measured  cliorus  all  the  Indians  intoned  in  pa- 
thetic measure,  "  Himalaya  !  Himalaya !  "  looking  first  at 
the  mound  of  fire  and  then  out  upon  the  fading  sunset. 

It  was  aU  indescribably  strange :  monarch  pines  stand- 
ing in  solemn  ranks  far  back  into  the  dusky  heart  of 
the  forest,  glowing  and  brightening  with  pulsating  re- 
flections of  firelight ;  the  ring  of  Indians,  crouching, 
standing  fixed  like  graven  images,  or  swaying  mechani- 
cally to  and  fro ;  each  tattered  scarlet  and  white  rag  of 
their  utterly  squalid  garments,  every  expression  of  bar- 
baric grief  or  dull  stolidity,  were  brought  strongly  out 
by  the  red  flaming  fire. 

Buck  watched  with  wet  eyes  that  slow-consuming 
fire  burn  to  ashes  the  body  of  his  wife  of  many  years,  the 
mother  of  his  group  of  poor  frightened  children.  Not  a 
stoical  savage,  but  a  despairing  husband,  stood  before  us. 
I  felt  him  to  be  human.  The  body  at  last  sank  into  a 
bed  of  flames  which  shot  up  higher  than  ever  with  foun- 
tains of  sparks,  and  sucked  together,  hiding  the  remains 
forever  from  view.  At  this  Buck  sprang  to  the  front 
and  threw  himself  at  the  fire ;  but  the  two  old  women 
seized  each  a  hand  and  dragged  him  back  to  his  children, 
when  he  feU  into  a  fit  of  stupor. 


40  MOUNTAINEERING  IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

As  we  walked  home  Jerry  was  quick  to  ask,  "  Did  n't 
I  tell  you  Injuns  lias  feelings  inside  of  'em  ? "  I  answered 
promptly  that  I  was  convinced ;  and  long  after,  as  I  lay 
awake  through  many  night-hours  listening  to  that  shrill 
death-wail,  I  felt  as  if  any  policy  toward  the  Indians 
hased  upon  the  assumption  of  their  being  brutes  or  devils 
was  nothing  short  of  a  blot  on  this  Christian  century. 

My  sleep  was  light,  and  sunrise  found  me  dressed,  stiU. 
listening,  as  under  a  kind  of  spell,  to  the  mourners,  who, 
though  evidently  exhausted,  at  brief  intervals  uttered  the 
cry.  Alone,  and  filled  with  serious  reflections,  I  strolled 
over  to  the  ranch  eria,  finding  every  one  there  up  and  about 
his  morning  duties. 

The  tar-heads,  withdrawn  some  distance  into  the  forest, 
sat  leaning  against  a  stump,  chatting  and  grinning  to- 
gether, now  and  then  screeching  by  turns. 

I  asked  Eevenue  Stamp,  a  good-natured,  middle-aged 
Indian,  where  Buck  was.  He  pointed  to  his  hut,  and 
replied,  with  an  affable  smile, "  He  w^hiskey  drunk."  "  And 
who,"  I  inquired,  "  is  that  fat  girl  with  him  ? "  "  Last 
night  he  take  her;  new  squaw,"  was  the  answer.  I 
could  hardly  believe,  but  it  was  the  actual  truth ;  and  I 
went  back  to  camp  an  enlightened  but  disillusioned  man. 
I  left  that  day,  and  never  had  an  opportunity  to  "  free  my 
mind"  to  Jerry.  Since  then  I  guardedly  avoid  all  dis- 
cussion of  the  "  Indian  question."  "When  interrogated,  I 
dodge,  or  protest  ignorance ;  when  pressed,  I  have  been 
known  to  turn  the  subject ;  or,  if  driven  to  the  wall,  I 
usually  confess  my  opinion  that  the  Quakers  will  have  to 
work  a  great  reformation  in  the  Indian  before  he  is  really 
fit  to  be  exterminated. 

The  mill-people  and  Indians  told  us  of  a  wonderful 
group  of  big  trees  {Sequoia  gigantea),  and  about  one  par- 
ticular tree  of  unequalled  size.     We  found  them  easily. 


THROUGH   THE    FOREST.  41 

after  a  ride  of  a  few  miles  in  a  northerly  direction  from 
our  camp,  upon  a  wide,  flat-topped  spifr,  where  they 
grew,  as  is  their  habit  elsewhere,  in  company  with  sev- 
eral other  coniferous  species,  all  grouped  socially  together, 
heightening  each  other's  beauty  by  contrasts  of  form  and 
color. 

In  a  rather  open  glade,  where  the  ground  was  for  the 
most  part  green  with  herbage,  and  conspicuously  starred 
with  upland  flowers,  stood  the  largest  shaft  we  observed. 
A  fire  had  formerly  burned  off  a  small  segment  of  its  base, 
not  enough,  however,  to  injure  the  symmetrical  appear- 
ance. It  was  a  slowly  tapering,  regularly  round  column 
of  about  forty  feet  in  diameter  at  the  base,  and  rising  two 
hundred  and  seventy-four  feet,  adorned  with  a  few  huge 
branches,  which  start  horizontally  from  the  trunk,  but 
quickly  turn  down  and  spray  out.  The  bark,  thick  but 
not  rough,  is  scored  up  and  down  at  considerable  intervals 
with  deep,  smooth  grooves,  and  is  of  brightest  cinnamon 
color  mottled  in  purple  and  yellow. 

That  which  impresses  one  most  after  its  vast  bulk  and 
grand,  pillar-like  stateliness,  is  the  thin  and  inconspicuous 
foliage,  which  feathers  out  delicately  on  the  boughs  like 
a  mere  mist  of  pale  apple-green.  It  would  seem  nothing 
when  compared  with  the  immense  volume  of  tree  for 
which  it  must  do  the  ordinary  respirative  duty;  but 
doubtless  the  bark  performs  a  large  share  of  this,  its 
papery  lamination  and  porous  structure  fitting  it  emi- 
nently for  that  purpose. 

Near  this  "  King  of  the  Mountains  "  grew  three  other 
trees;  one  a  sugar-pine  {Pinus  Lamhertiana)  of  about 
eight  feet  in  diameter,  and  hardly  less  than  three  liun- 
dred  feet  high  (although  we  did  not  measure  it,  estimat- 
ing simply  by  comparison  of  its  rise  above  the  Setjuoia, 
whose  height  was  quite  accurately  determined).     For  a 


42  MOUNTAINEERING  IN   THE   SIERRA   NEVADA. 

hundred  and  fifty  feet  the  pine  was  branchless,  and  as 
round  as  if  turned,  delicate  bluish-purple  in  hue,  and 
marked  with  a  network  of  scorings.  The  branches,  in 
nearly  level  poise,  grew  long  and  slenderly  out  from  the 
shaft,  well  covered  with  dark  yellow-green  needles.  The 
two  remaining  trees  were  firs  {Picea  grandis),  which 
sprung  from  a  common  root,  dividing  shghtly,  as  they 
rose,  a  mass  of  feathery  branches,  whose  load  of  pohshed 
blue-green  foliage,  for  the  most  part,  hid  the  dark  wood- 
brown  trunk.  Grace,  exquisite  spire-hke  taper  boughs, 
whose  plumes  of  green  float  lightly  upon  the  air,  elas- 
ticity, and  symmetry,  are  its  characteristics. 

In  all  directions  this  family  continue  grouping  them- 
selves always  with  attractive  originahty.  There  is  some- 
thing memorable  in  the  harmonious  yet  positive  colors  of 
this  sort  of  forest.  First,  the  foliage  and  trunk  of  each 
separate  tree  contrasts  finely,  —  cinnamon  and  golden 
apple-green  in  the  Sequoia,  dark  purple  and  yellowish- 
green  for  the  pine,  deep  wood-color  and  bluish-green  of 
fir. 

The  sky,  which  at  this  elevation  of  six  thousand  feet 
is  deep  pure  blue  and  often  cloudless,  is  seen  through 
the  tracery  of  boughs  and  tree-tops,  which  cast  downward 
fine  and  filmy  shadows  across  the  glowing  trunks.  Alto- 
gether, it  is  a  wonderful  setting  for  the  Sequoia.  The  two 
firs,  judging  by  many  of  equal  size  whose  age  I  have 
studied,  were  about  three  hundred  years  old ;  the  pine, 
still  hale  and  vigorous,  not  less  than  five  hundred ;  and  for 
the  "  King  of  the  Mountains  "  we  cannot  assign  a  proba- 
ble age  of  less  than  two  thousand  years. 

A  mountain,  a  fossil  from  deepest  geological  horizon,  a 
ruin  of  human  art,  carry  us  back  into  the  perspective  of 
centuries  with  a  force  that  has  become,  perhaps,  a  little 
conventional.      No   imperishableness   of   mountain-peak 


THROUGH  TH^  FOREST.  43 

or  of  fragment  of  Jiuman  work,  broken  pillar  or  sand- worn 
image  half  lifted  over  pathetic  desert,  —  none  of  these 
link  the  past  and  to-day  with  anything  like  the  power  of 
these  monuments  of  living  antiquity,  trees  that  began 
to  grow  before  the  Christian  era,  and,  full  of  hale  vitality 
and  green  old  age,  still  bid  fair  to  grow  broad  and  high 
for  centuries  to  come.  Who  shall  predict  the  limits  of 
this  unexampled  life  ?  There  is  nothing  wliich  indicates 
suffering  or  degeneracy  in  the  Beqiioia  as  a  species.  I 
find  pathological  hints  that  several  other  far  younger 
species  in  the  same  forest  are  gradually  giving  up  their 
struggle  for  existence.  That  singular  species  Piniis  Sa- 
hiniana  appears  to  me  to  suffer  death-pains  from  foot-hill 
extremes  of  temperature  and  dryness,  and  notably  from 
ravenous  parasites  of  the  mistletoe  type.  At  the  other 
extreme  the  Pinus  flexilis  has  about  half  given  up  the 
fight  against  cold  and  storms.  Its  young  are  dwarfed 
or  huddled  in  thickets,  with  such  mode  of  growth 
that  they  may  never  make  trees  of  full  stature;  while 
higher  up,  standing  among  bare  rocks  and  fields  of  ice, 
far  above  all  living  trees,  are  the  stark  white  skeletons 
of  noble  dead  specimens,  their  blanched  forms  rigid 
and  defiant,  preserved  from  decay  by  a  marvellous  hard- 
ness of  fibre,  and  only  wasted  by  the  cutting  of  storm- 
driven  crystals  of  snow.  Still  the  Sequoia  maintains 
perfect  health. 

It  is,  then,  the  vast  respiring  power,  the  atmosphere, 
the  bland,  regular  climate,  which  give  such  long  life,  and 
not  any  richness  or  abundance  of  food  received  from  the 
soil. 

If  one  loves  to  gather  the  material  for  travellers'  stories, 
he  may  find  here  and  there  a  hollow  fallen  trunk  through 
whose  heart  he  may  ride  for  many  feet  without  bowing 
the  head.     But  if  he  love  the  tree  for  its  own  grand 


44  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE  SIERRA  NEVADA. 

nature,  he  may  lie  in  silence  upon  the  soft  forest  floor,  in 
shadow  or  sunny  warmth,  if  he  please,  and  spend  many 
days  in  wonder,  gazing  upon  majestic  shafts,  following 
their  gold  and  purple  flutings  from  broad,  firmly  planted 
base  up  and  on  through  the  few  huge  branches,  and  among 
the  pale  clouds  of  filmy  green  traced  in  open  network 
upon  the  deep  blue  of  the  sky. 

GK-oups  of  this  ancient  race  grow  along  the  middle 
heights  of  the  Sierra  for  almost  two  hundred  miles,  mark- 
ing; a  line  of  groves  throuofh  the  forest  of  lesser  trees,  still 
retaining  their  power  of  reproduction,  ripening  cones  with 
regularity,  whose  seed  germinates,  springs  up,  and  grows 
with  apparently  as  great  vital  power  as  the  descendants 
of  younger  conifers.  Nor  are  these  their  only  remarkable 
characteristics.  They  possess  hardly  any  roots  at  all. 
Several  in  each  grove  have  been  blown  down,  and  lie 
slowly  decomposing.  They  are  found  usually  to  have 
rested  upon  the  ground  with  a  few  short  pedestal-like 
feet  penetrating  the  earth  for  a  little  way. 

Too  soon  for  my  pleasure,  the  time  came  when  we 
must  turn  our  backs  upon  these  stately  groves  and  push 
up  towards  the  snow. 

Our  route  lay  eastward,  between  the  King's  and  Kaweah 
rivers,  rising  as  we  marched ;  the  vegetation,  as  well  as 
the  barometer,  accurately  measuring  the  change. 

We  reached  our  camp  on  the  Big  Meadow  plateau  on 
the  22d  of  June,  and  that  night  the  thermometer  fell  to 
20°  above  zero.  This  cold  was  followed  by  a  chilly, 
overcast  morning,  and  about  ten  o'clock  an  old-fash- 
ioned snow-storm  set  in.  Wind  howled  fiercely  through 
the  trees,  coming  down  from  the  mountains  in  ter- 
ribly powerful  gusts.  The  green  flower-covered  meadow 
was  soon  buried  under  snow;  and  we  explorers,  who 
had  no  tent,  hid  ourselves  under  piles  of  brush,  and  on 


THROUGH  THE   FOREST.  45 

the  lee  side  of  hospitable  stones.  Our  scant  supply 
of  blankets  was  a  poor  defence  against  such  inclem- 
ency; so  we  crawled  out  and  made  a  huge  camp-fire, 
around  which  we  sat  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  During 
the  afternoon  we  were  visited.  A  couple  of  hunters,  with 
their  rifles  over  their  shoulders,  seeing  the  smoke  of  our 
camp-fire,  followed  it  through  the  woods  and  joined  our 
circle.  They  were  typical  mountaineers,  —  outcasts  from 
society,  discontented  with  the  world,  comforting  them- 
selves in  the  solitude  of  nature  by  the  occasional  excite- 
ment of  a  bear-fight.  One  was  a  half-breed  Cherokee, 
rather  over  six  feet  high,  powerfully  built,  and  pictu- 
resquely dressed  in  buckskin  breeches  and  green  jacket ;  a 
sort  of  Trovatore  hat  completed  his  costume,  and  gave  him 
an  animated  appearance.  The  other  was  unmistakably  a 
Pike-Countian,  who  had  dangled  into  a  pair  of  butternut 
jeans.  His  greasy  flannel  shirt  was  pinned  together  with 
thorns  in  lieu  of  buttons,  and  his  hat  fastened  back  in 
the  same  way,  having  lost  its  stiffness  by  continual  wet- 
ting. The  Cherokee  had  a  long  manly  stride,  and  the 
Pike  a  rickety  sort  of  shuffle.  His  anatomy  was  bad,  his 
physical  condition  worse,  and  I  think  he  added  to  that  a 
sort  of  pride  in  his  own  awkwardness.  Seeming  to  have 
a  principle  of  suspension  somewhere  about  his  shoulders, 
which  maintained  his  head  at  about  the  right  elevation 
above  the  ground,  he  kept  up  a  good  rate  in  walking 
without  apparently  making  an  effort.  His  body  swayed 
with  a  peculiar  corkscrew  motion,  and  his  long  Missis- 
sippi rifle  waved  to  and  fro  through  the  air. 

We  all  noticed  the  utter  contrast  between  them  as 
these  two  men  approached  our  fire.  The  hunter's  taci- 
turnity is  a  well-known  role,  but  they  had  evidently 
lived  so  long  an  isolated  life  that  they  were  too  glad  of 
any  company  to  play  it  unfailingly ;  so  it  was  they  who 


46  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

opened  tlie  conversation.  We  found  that  tliey  were  now 
camped  only  a  half-mile  from  us,  were  hunting  for  deer- 
skins, and  had  already  accumulated  a  very  large  number. 
They  offered  us  plenty  of  venison,  and  were  greatly  inter- 
ested in  our  proposed  journeys  into  the  high  mountains. 
From  them  we  learned  that  they  had  themselves  pene- 
trated farther  than  any  others,  and  had  only  given  up  the 
exploration  after  wandering  fruitlessly  among  the  canons 
for  a  month.  They  told  us  that  not  even  Indians  had 
crossed  the  Sierras  to  the  east,  and  that  if  we  did  succeed 
in  reaching  this  summit  we  would  certainly  be  the  first. 
We  learned  from  them,  also,  that  a  mile  to  the  northward 
was  a  great  herd  of  cattle  in  charge  of  a  party  of  Mex- 
icans. Fleeing  before  the  continued  drought  of  the 
plains,  all  the  cattle-men  of  California  drove  the  remains 
of  their  starved  herds  either  to  the  coast  or  to  the  High 
Sierras,  and  grazed  upon  the  summer  pastures,  descending 
in  the  autumn,  and  living  upon  the  dry  foot-hill  grasses, 
until,  under  the  influence  of  winter  rains,  the  plains  again 
clothe  themselves  with  pasturage.  The  following  morn- 
ing, having  received  a  present  of  two  deer  from  the  hunt- 
ers, we  packed  our  animals  and  started  eastward,  passing, 
after  a  few  minutes'  ride,  the  encampment  of  the  Spaniards. 
About  four  thousand  cattle  roamed  over  the  plateau,  and 
were  only  looked  after  once  or  twice  a  week.  The  four 
Spaniards  divided  th^ir  time  between  drinking  coffee  and 
playing  cards.  They  were  engaged  in  the  latter  amuse- 
ment when  we  passed  them  ;  and  although  we  halted  and 
tried  to  get  some  information,  they  only  answered  us  in 
monosyllables,  and  continued  their  game.  To  the  eastward 
the  plateau  rose  toward  the  high  mountains  in  immense 
granite  steps.  We  rode  pleasantly  through  the  forest 
over  these  level  tables,  and  climbed  with  difficulty  the 
rugged  rock-strewn  fronts,  each  successive  step  bringing 


THROUGH  THE  FOREST.  47 

US  nearer  the  mountains,  and  giving  us  a  far-reaching 
view.  Here  and  tliere  the  granite  rose  through  the  forest 
in  broad,  smooth  domes  ;  and  many  times  we  were  obliged 
to  climb  these  rocky  slopes  at  the  peril  of  our  animals' 
lives.  After  several  days  of  marching  and  countermarch- 
ing, we  gave  up  the  attem^^t  to  push  farther  in  a  southeast 
direction,  and  turned  north,  toward  the  great  canon  of 
King's  Eiver,  which  we  hoped  might  lead  us  up  to  the 
Snow  Group.  Eeaching  the  brink  of  this  gorge,  we 
observed,  about  half-way  down  the  slope,  and  standing 
at  equal  levels  on  both  flanks,  singular  embankments 
—  shelves  a  thousand  feet  in  width  —  built  at  a  height 
of  fifteen  hundred  feet  above  the  valley  bottom,  their 
smooth,  evenly  graded  summits  rising  higher  and 
higher  to  the  eastward  on  the  canon-wall  until  they 
joined  the  snow.  They  were  evidently  the  lateral  mo- 
raines of  a  vast  extinct  glacier,  and  that  opposite  us 
seemed  to  offer  an  easy  ride  into  the  heart  of  the  moun- 
tains. With  great  difficulty  we  descended  the  long  slope, 
through  chaparral  and  forest,  reaching,  at  length,  the 
level,  smooth  glacier  bottom.  Here,  threading  its  way 
through  alternate  groves  and  meadows,  was  the  King's 
Eiver,  —  a  stream  not  over  thirty  feet  in  width,  but  rushing 
with  all  the  force  of  a  torrent.  Its  icy  temperature  was 
very  refreshing  after  our  weary  climb  down  the  wall.  By 
a  series  of  long  zigzags  we  succeeded  in  leading  our  ani- 
mals up  the  flank  to  the  top  of  the  north  moraine,  and 
here  we  found  ourselves  upon  a  forest-covered  causeway, 
almost  as  smooth  as  a  railroad  embankment.  Its  fluted 
crest  enclosed  three  separate  pathways,  each  a  hun- 
dred feet  wide,  divided  from  each  other  by  roughly  laid 
trains  of  rocks,  showing  it  evidently  to  be  a  compound 
moraine.  As  we  ascended  toward  the  mountains,  the 
causeway  was   more   a,nd   more   isolated  from  the  cliff. 


48  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

until  the  depression  between  them  widened  to  half  a 
mile,  and  to  at  least  five  hundred  feet  deep.  Through- 
out nearly  a  whole  day  we  rode  comfortably  along  at 
a  gentle  grade,  reaching  at  evening  the  region  of  the 
snow,  where,  among  innumerable  huge  granite  blocks, 
we  threaded  our  way  in  search  of  a  camp-ground.  The 
mountain  amphitheatre  which  gave  rise  to  the  King's 
Eiver  opened  to  the  east,  a  broad  valley,  into  which  we 
at  length  climbed  ;  and,  among  scattered  groves  of  alpine 
pines,  and  on  patches  of  meadow,  rode  eastward  till 
twilight,  watching  the  high  pyramidal  peak  which  lay 
directly  at  the  head  of  the  gorge.  By  sunset  we  had 
gone  as  far  as  we  could  take  the  animals,  and,  in  full 
view  of  our  goal,  camped  for  the  night.  The  form  of  the 
mountain  at  the  head  of  our  ravine  was  purely  Gothic. 

A  thousand  upspringing  spires  and,  pinnacles  pierce 
the  sky  in  every  direction,  the  cliffs  and  mountain- 
ridges  are  everywhere  ornamented  with  countless  needle- 
like turrets.  Crowning  the  wall  to  the  south  of  our  camp 
were  series  of  these  jagged  forms  standing  out  against  the 
sky  like  a  procession  of  colossal  statues.  Whichever  way 
we  turned,  we  were  met  by  some  extraordinary  fulness 
of  detail.  Every  mass  seemed  to  have  the  highest  possi- 
ble ornamental  finish.  Along  the  lower  flanks  of  the 
walls,  tall  straight  pines,  the  last  of  the  forest,  wxre 
relieved  against  the  cliffs,  and  the  same  slender  forms, 
although  carved  in  granite,  surmounted  every  ridge  and 
peak. 

Through  this  wide  zone  of  forest  we  had  now  passed, 
and  from  its  perpetual  shadow  had  come  out  among  the 
few  black  groves  of  fir  into  a  brilliant  alpine  sunshine. 
The  light,  although  surprisingly  lively,  was  of  a  purity 
and  refinement  quite  different  from  the  strong  glare  of 
the  plains. 


Ill 


THE  ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  TYNDALL. 

Morning  dawned  brightly  upon  our  bivouac  among  a 
cluster  of  dark  firs  in  tlie  mountain  corridor  opened  by 
an  ancient  glacier  of  ling's  Eiver  into  the  heart  of  the 
Sierras.  It  dawned  a  trifle  sooner  than  we  could  have 
wished,  but  Professor  Brewer  and  Hoffman  had  break- 
fasted before  sunrise,  and  were  off  with  barometer  and 
theodolite  upon  their  shoulders,  purposing  to  ascend  our 
amphitheatre  to  its  head  and  climb  a  great  pyramidal 
peak  which  swelled  up  against  the  eastern  sky,  closing 
the  view  in  that  direction. 

We  who  remained  in  camp  spent  the  day  in  overhaul- 
ing campaign  materials  and  preparing  for  a  grand  assault 
upon  the  summits.  For  a  couple  of  hours  we  could 
descry  our  friends  through  the  field-glasses,  their  minute 
black  forms  moving  slowly  on  among  piles  of  giant 
debris ;  now  and  then  lost,  again  coming  into  view,  and 
at  last  disappearing  altogether. 

It  was  twilight  of  evening  and  almost  eight  o'clock 
when  they  came  back  to  camp,  Brewer  leading  the  way, 
Hoffman  following;  and  as  they  sat. down  by  our  fire 
without  uttering  a  word,  we  read  upon  their  faces  ter- 
rible fatioue. 

So  we  hastened  to  give  them  supper  of  coffee  and  soup, 
bread  and  venison,  which  resulted,  after  a  time,  in  our 
getting  in  return  the  story  of  the  day. 

3  D 


50  MOUNTAINEERING  IN   THE  SIERRA  NEVADA. 

For  eight  whole  hours  they  had  worked  up  over  granite 
and  snow,  mounting  ridge  after  ridge,  till  the  summit  was 
made  about  two  o'clock. 

These  snowy  crests  bounding  our  view  at  the  eastward 
we  had  all  along  taken  to  be  the  summits  of  the  Sierra, 
and  Brewer  had  supposed  himself  to  be  climbing  a  dom- 
inant peak,  from  which  he  might  look  eastward  over 
Owen's  Valley  and  out  upon  leagues  of  desert.  Instead 
of  this  a  vast  wall  of  mountains,  lifted  still  higlier  than 
his  peak,  rose  beyond  a  tremendous  canon  which  lay  like 
a  trough  between  the  two  parallel  ranks  of  peaks.  Hoff- 
man showed  us  on  his  sketch-book  the  profile  of  this  new 
range,  and  I  instantly  recognized  the  peaks  which  I  had 
seen  from  Mariposa,  whose  gTeat  white  pile  had  led  me 
to  believe  them  the  highest  points  of  California. 

Tor  a  couple  of  months  my  friends  had  made  me  the 
target  of  plenty  of  pleasant  banter  about  my  "  highest 
land,"  which  they  lost  faith  in  as  w^e  climbed  from 
Thomas's  Mill, —  I  too  becoming  a  trifle  anxious  about 
it ;  but  now  that  the  truth  had  burst  upon  Brewer  and 
Hoffman  they  could  not  find  words  to  describe  the  ter- 
ribleness  and  grandeur  of  the  deep  canon,  nor  for  pictur- 
ing those  huge  crags  towering  in  line  at  the  east.  Their 
peak,  as  indicated  by  the  barometer,  was  in  the  region  of 
thirteen  thousand  four  hundred  feet,  and  a  level  across  to 
the  farther  range  showed  its  crests  to  be  at  least  fifteen 
hundred  feet  higher.  They  had  spent  hours  upon  the  sum- 
mit scanning  the  eastern  horizon,  and  ranging  downward 
into  the  labyrinth  of  gulfs  below,  and  had  come  at  last 
with  reluctance  to  the  belief  that  to  cross  this  gorge  and 
ascend  the  eastern  wall  of  peaks  was  utterly  impossible. 

Brewer  and  Hoffman  were  old  climbers,  and  their  ver- 
dict of  impossible  oppressed  me  as  I  lay  awake  thinking 
of  it ;  but  early  next  morning  I  had  made  up  my  mind, 


THE  ASCENT   OF   MOUNT   TYNDALL.  51 

and,  taking  Cotter  aside,  I  asked  him  in  an  easy  manner 
whether  he  would  like  to  penetrate  the  Terra  Incognita 
with  me  at  the  risk  of  our  necks,  provided  Brewer  should 
consent.  In  a  frank,  courageous  tone  he  answered  after 
his  usual  mode,  "  Why  not  ?  "  Stout  of  limb,  stronger  yet 
in  heart,  of  iron  endurance,  and  a  quiet,  unexcited  tempera- 
ment, and,  better  yet,  deeply  devoted  to  me,  I  felt  that 
Cotter  was  the  one  comrade  I  would  choose  to  face  death 
with,  for  I  believed  there  was  in  his  manhood  no  room 
for  fear  or  shirk. 

It  was  a  trying  moment  for  Brewer  when  we  found  him 
and  volunteered  to  attempt  a  campaign  for  the  top  of 
California,  because  he  felt  a  certain  fatherly  responsibility 
over  our  youth,  a  natural  desire  that  we  should  not  de- 
posit our  triturated  remains  in  some  undiscoverable  hole 
among  the  feldspathic  granites  ;  but,  like  a  true  disciple 
of  science,  this  was  at  last  over-balanced  by  his  intense 
desire  to  know  more  of  the  unexplored  region.  He 
freely  confessed  that  he  believed  the  plan  madness,  and 
Hoffman,  too,  told  us  we  might  as  well  attempt  to  get  on 
a  cloud  as  to  try  the  peak. 

As  Brewer  gradually  yielded  his  consent,  I  saw  by  his 
conversation  that  there  w^as  a  possibility  of  success ;  so  we 
spent  the  rest  of  the  day  in  making  preparations. 

Our  walkinsj-slioes  were  in  excellent  condition,  the 
hobnails  firm  and  new.  We  laid  out  a  barometer,  a  com- 
pass, a  pocket-level,  a  set  of  wet  and  dry  thermometers, 
note-books,  with  bread,  cooked  beans,  and  venison  enough 
to  last  a  week,  rolled  them  all  in  blankets,  making  two 
knapsack-shaped  packs  strapped  firmly  together  with 
loops  for  the  arms,  which,  by  Brewer's  estimate,  weighed 
forty  pounds  apiece. 

Gardner  declared  he  would  accompany  us  to  the  sum- 
mit of  the  first  range  to  look  over  into  the  gulf  we  were 


52  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

to  cross,  and  at  last  Brewer  and  Hoffman  also  concluded 
to  go  up  with  us. 

Quite  too  early  for  our  profit  we  all  betook  ourselves 
to  bed,  vainly  hoping  to  get  a  long  refreshing  sleep  from 
which  we  should  arise  ready  for  our  tramp. 

Never  a  man  welcomed  those  first  gray  streaks  in  the 
east  gladder  than  I  did,  unless  it  may  be  Cotter,  who  has 
in  later  years  confessed  that  he  did  not  go  to  sleep  that 
night.  Long  before  sunrise  we  had  done  our  breakfast 
and  were  under  way,  Hoffman  kindly  bearing  my  pack, 
and  Brewer  Cotter's. 

Our  way  led  due  east  up  the  amphitheatre  and  toward 
Mount  Brewer,  as  we  had  named  the  great  pyramidal 
peak. 

Awhile  after  leaving  camp,  slant  sunlight  streamed  in 
among  gilded  pinnacles  along  the  slope  of  Mount  Brewer, 
touching  here  and  there,  in  broad  dashes  of  yellow,  the 
gray  walls,  which  rose  sweeping  up  on  either  hand  like 
the  sides  of  a  ship. 

Our  way  along  the  valley's  middle  ascended  over  a 
number  of  huge  steps,  rounded  and  abrupt,  at  whose 
bases  were  pools  of  transparent  snow-water  edged  with 
rude  piles  of  erratic  glacier  blocks,  scattered  companies 
of  alpine  firs,  of  red  bark  and  having  cypress-like  dark- 
ness of  foliage,  with  fields  of  snow  under  sheltering  cliffs, 
and  bits  of  softest  velvet  meadow  clouded  with  minute 
blue  and  white  flowers. 

As  we  climbed,  the  gorge  grew  narrow  and  sharp,  both 
sides  wilder ;  and  the  spurs  which  projected  from  them, 
nearly  overhanging  the  middle  of  the  valley,  towered 
above  us  with  more  and  more  severe  sculpture.  We 
frequently  crossed  deep  fields  of  snow,  and  at  last  reached 
the  level  of  the  highest  pines,  where  long  slopes  of  debris 
swept  down  from  either  cliff,  meeting   in   the  middle. 


THE  ASCENT   OF   MOUNT   TYNDALL.  53 

Over  and  among  these  immense  blocks,  often  twenty  and 
thirty  leet  high,  we  were  obliged  to  climb,  hearing  far  be- 
low us  the  siibterreanean  gurgle  of  streams. 

Interlocking  spurs  nearly  closed  the  gorge  behind  us ; 
our  last  view  was  out  a  granite  gateway  formed  of  two 
nearly  vertical  precipices,  sharp-edged,  jutting  buttress- 
like, and  plunging  down  into  a  field  of  angular  boulders 
which  fill  the  valley  bottom. 

The  eye  ranged  out  from  this  open  gateway  overlooking 
the  great  King's  Canon  with  its  moraine-terraced  walls, 
the  domes  of  granite  upon  Big  Meadows,  and  the  undulat- 
ing stretch  of  forest  which  descends  to  the  plain. 

The  gorge  turning  southward,  we  rounded  a  sort  of 
mountain  promontory,  which,  closing  the  view  behind  us, 
shut  us  up  in  the  bottom  of  a  perfect  basin.  In  front  lay 
a  placid  lake  reflecting  the  intense  black-blue  of  the  sky. 
Granite,  stained  with  purple  and  red,  sank  into  it  upon 
one  side,  and  a  broad  spotless  field  of  snow  came  down  to 
its  margin  upon  the  other. 

From  a  pile  of  large  granite  blocks,  forty  or  fifty  feet 
np  above  the  lake  margin,  we  could  look  down  fully  a 
himdred  feet  through  the  transparent  water  to  where 
boulders  and  pebbles  were  strewn  upon  the  stone  bottom. 
A¥e  had  now  reached  the  base  of  Mount  Brewer  and  were 
skirting  its  southern  spurs  in  a  wide  open  corridor  sur- 
rounded in  aU  directions  by  lofty  granite  crags  from  two 
to  four  thousand  feet  high  ;  above  the  limits  of  vegetation, 
rocks,  lakes  of  deep  heavenly  blue,  and  white  trackless 
snows  were  grouped  closely  about  us.  Two  sounds,  a 
sharp  little  cry  of  martens,  and  occasional  heavy  crashes 
of  falling  rock,  saluted  us. 

Climbing  became  exceedingly  difficult,  light  air  —  for 
we  had  already  reached  twelve  thousand  five  hundred 
feet  —  beginning  to  teU  upon  our  lungs  to  such  an  extent 


54  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

that  my  friend,  who  had  taken  turns  with  me  in  carrying 
my  pack,  was  unable  to  do  so  any  longer,  and  I  adjusted* 
it  to  my  own  shoulders  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 

After  four  hours  of  slow  laborious  work  we  made  the 
base  of  the  debris  slope  which  rose  about  a  thousand  feet 
to  a  saddle  pass  in  the  western  mountain  wall,  that  range 
upon  which  Mount  Brewer  is  so  prominent  a  point.  We 
were  nearly  an  hour  in  toiling  up  this  slope  over  an  un- 
certain footing  which  gave  way  at  almost  every  step.  At 
last,  when  almost  at  the  top,  we  paused  to  take  breath, 
and  then  all  walked  out  upon  the  crest,  laid  off  our 
packs,  and  sat  down  together  upon  the  summit  of  the 
ridge,  and  for  a  few  moments  not  a  word  was  spoken.- 

The  Sierras  are  here  two  parallel  summit  ranges.  We 
were  upon  the  crest  of  the  western  ridge,  and  looked 
down  into  a  gulf  five  thousand  feet  deep,  sinking  from  our 
feet  in  abrupt  cliffs  nearly  or  quite  two  thousand  feet, 
whose  base  plunged  into  a  broad  field  of  snow  lying  steep 
and  smooth  for  a  great  distance,  but  broken  near  its  foot 
by  craggy  steps  often  a  thousand  feet  high. 

Vague  blue  haze  obscured  the  lost  depths,  hiding  details, 
giving  a  bottomless  distance  out  of  which,  like  the  breath 
of  wind,  floated  up  a  faint  tremble,  vibrating  upon  the 
senses,  yet  never  clearly  heard. 

Eising  on  the  other  side,  cliff  above  cliff,  precipice 
piled  upon  precipice,  rock  over  rock,  up  against  sky, 
towered  the  most  gigantic  mountain-wall  in  America, 
culminating  in  a  noble  pile  of  Gothic-finished  granite 
and  enamel-like  snow.  How  grand  and  inviting  looked 
its  white  form,  its  untrodden,  unknown  crest,  so  high  and 
pure  in  the  clear  strong  blue !  I  looked  at  it  as  one 
contemplating  the  purpose  of  his  life ;  and  for  just  one 
moment  I  would  have  rather  liked  to  dodge  that  purpose, 
or  to  have  waited,  or  have  found  some  excellent  reason 


THE   ASCENT   OF   MOUNT   TYNDALL.  55 

why  I  might  not  go ;  but  all  this  quickly  vanished,  leav- 
ing a  cheerful  resolve  to  go  ahead. 

From  the  two  opposing  mountain-walls  singular,  thin, 
knife-blade  ridges  of  stone  jutted  out,  dividing  the  sides 
of  the  gulf  into  a  series  of  amphitheatres,  each  one  a 
labyrinth  of  ice  and  rock.  Piercing  thick  beds  of  snow, 
sprang  up  knobs  and  straight  isolated  spires  of  rock,  mere 
obelisks  curiously  carved  by  frost,  their  rigid,  slender 
forms  casting  a  blue,  sharp  shadow  upon  the  snow.  Em- 
bosomed in  depressions  of  ice,  or  resting  on  broken  ledges, 
were  azure  lakes,  deeper  in  tone  than  the  sky,  which  at 
this  altitude,  even  at  midday,  has  a  violet  duskiness. 
-  To  the  south,  not  more  than  eight  miles,  a  wall  of 
peaks  stood  across  the  gulf,  dividing  the  King's,  which 
flowed  north  at  our  feet,  from  the  Kern  Eiver,  that  flowed 
down  the  trough  in  the  opposite  direction. 

I  did  not  wonder  that  Brewer  and  Hoffman  pronounced 
our  undertaking  impossible ;  but  when  I  looked  at  Cotter 
there  was  such  complete  bravery  in  his  eye  that  I  asked 
him  if  he  was  ready  to  start.  His  old  answer,  "Why 
not  ? "  left  the  initiative  with  me ;  so  I  told  Professor 
Brewer  that  we  would  bid  him  good  by.  Our  friends 
helped  us  on  with  our  packs  in  silence,  and  as  we  shook 
hands  there  was  not  a  dry  eye  in  the  party.  Before  he 
let  go  of  my  hand  Professor  Brewer  asked  me  for  my 
plan,  and  I  had  to  own  that  I  had  but  one,  which  was  to 
reach  the  highest  peak  in  the  range. 

After  looking  in  every  direction  I  was  obliged  to  con- 
fess that  I  saw  as  yet  no  practicable  way.  We  bade  them 
a  "  good  by,"  receiving  their  "  God  bless  you  "  in  return, 
and  started  southward  along  the  range  to  look  for  some 
possible  cliff  to  descend.  Brewer,  Gardner,  and  Hoff- 
man turned  north  to  push  upward  to  the  summit  of 
Mount  Brewer,  and   complete   their   observations.      We 


56  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

saw  them  whenever  we  halted,  until  at  last,  on  the  very- 
summit,  their  microscopic  forms  were  for  the  last  time 
discernible.  With  very  great  difficulty  we  climbed  a 
peak  which  surmounted  our  wall  just  to  the  south  of  the- 
pass,  and,  looking  over  the  eastern  brink,  found  that  the 
precipice  was  still  sheer  and  unbroken.  In  one  place, 
where  the  snow  lay  against  it  to  the  very  top,  we  went  to 
its  edge  and  contemplated  the  slide.  About  three  thou- 
saiid  feet  of  unbroken  white,  at  a  fearfully  steep  angle, 
lay  below  us.  We  threw  a  stone  over  and  watched  it 
bound  until  it  was  lost  in  the  distance ;  after  fearful  leaps 
we  could  only  detect  it  by  the  flashings  of  snow  where  it 
struck,  and  as  these  were,  in  some  instances,  three  hun- 
dred feet  apart,  we  decided  not  to  launch  our  own  valuable 
bodies,  and  the  still  more  precious  barometer,  after  it. 

There  seemed  but  one  possible  way  to  reach  our  goal; 
that  was  to  make  our  way  along  the  summit  of  the  cross 
ridge  which  projected  between  the  two  ranges.  This 
divide  sprang  out  from  our  INIount  Brewer  wall,  about 
four  miles  to  the  south  of  us.  To  reach  it  we  must  climb 
up  and  down  over  the  indented  edge  of  the  Mount  Brewer 
wall.  In  attempting  to  do  this  we  had  a  rather  lively 
time  scaling  a  sharp  granite  needle,  where  we  found  our 
course  completely  stopped  by  precipices  four  and  five 
hundred  feet  in  heis^ht.  Ahead  of  us  the  summit  con- 
tinned  to  be  broken  into  fantastic  pinnacles,  leaving  us  no 
hope  'of  making  our  way  along  it ;  so  we  sought  the  most 
broken  part  of  the  eastern  descent,  and  began  to  climb 
down.  The  heavy  knapsacks,  beside  wearing  our  shoul- 
ders gradually  into  a  black-and-blue  state,  overbalanced 
us  terribly,  and  kept  us  in  constant  danger  of  pitching 
headlong.  At  last,  taking  them  off.  Cotter  climbed  down 
until  he  had  found  a  resting-place  upon  a  cleft  of  rock, 
then  I  lowered  them  to  him  with  our  lasso,  afterwards 


THE  ASCENT   OF  MOUNT   TYNDALL.  57 

descending  cautiously  to  his  side,  taking  my  turn  in 
pioneering  downward,  receiving  the  freight  of  knapsacks 
by  lasso  as  before.  In  this  manner  we  consumed  more 
than  half  the  afternoon  in  descending  a  thousand  feet  of 
broken,  precipitous  slope ;  and  it  was  almost  sunset  when 
we  found  ourselves  upon  the  fields  of  level  snow  which 
lay  white  and  thick  over  the  whole  interior  slope  of 
the  amphitheatre.  The  gorge  below  us  seemed  utterly 
impassable.  At  our  backs  the  Mount  Brewer  wall  either 
rose  in  sheer  cliffs  or  in  broken,  rugged  stairway,  such  as 
had  offered  us  our  descent.  From  this  cruel  dilemma  the 
cross  divide  furnished  the  only  hope,  and  the  sole  chance 
of  scaling  that  was  at  its  junction  with  the  Mount  Brewer 
wall.  Toward  this  point  we  directed  our  course,  march- 
ing wearily  over  stretches  of  dense  frozen  snow,  and 
regions  of  debris,  reaching  about  sunset  the  last  alcove 
of  the  amphitheatre,  just  at  the  foot  of  the  Mount  Brewer 
wall.  It  was  evidently  impossible  for  us  to  attempt  to 
climb  it  that  evening,  and  we  looked  about  the  desolate 
recesses  for  a  sheltered  camping-spot.  A  high  granite 
wall  surrounded  us  upon  three  sides,  recurring  to  the 
southward  in  long  elliptical  curves;  no  part  of  the  sum- 
mit being  less  than  two  thousand  feet  above  us,  the  higher 
crags  not  unfrequently  reaching  three  thousand  feet.  A 
single  field  of  snow  swept  around  the  base  of  the  rock, 
and  covered  the  whole  amphitheatre,  except  where  a  few 
spikes  and  rounded  masses  of  granite  rose  through  it,  and 
where  two  frozen  lakes,  with  their  blue  ice-disks,  broke 
the  monotonous  surface.  Through  the  white  snow^-gate 
of  our  amphitheatre,  as  through  a  frame,  we  looked  east- 
ward upon  the  summit  group ;  not  a  tree,  not  a  vestige  of 
vegetation  in  sight,  —  sky,  snow,  and  granite  the  only 
elements  in  this  wild  picture. 

After  searching  for  a  shelter  we  at  last  found  a  granite 


58  MOUNT AINEEKING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

crevice  near  the  margin  of  one  of  the  frozen  lakes,  —  a 
sort  of  shelf  just  large  enough  for  Cotter  and  me,  —  where 
we  hastened  to  make  our  bed,  having  first  filled  the  can- 
teen from  a  small  stream  that  trickled  over  the  ice,  know- 
ing that  in  a  few  moments  the  rapid  chill  would  freeze  it. 
We  ate  our  supper  of  cold  venison  and  bread,  and  whittled 
from  the  sides  of  the  wooden  barometer-case  shavings 
enough  to  warm  water  for  a  cuj)  of  miserably  tepid  tea, 
and  then,  packing  our  provisions  and  instruments  away  at 
the  head  of  the  shelf,  rolled  ourselves  in  our  blankets  and 
lay  down  to  enjoy  the  view. 

After  such  fatiguing  exercises  the  mind  has  an  almost 
abnormal  clearness :  whether  this  is  wholly  from  within, 
or  due  to  the  intensely  vitalizing  mountain  air,  I  am  not 
sure ;  probably  both  contribute  to  the  state  of  exaltation 
in  which  all  alpine  climbers  find  themselves.  The  solid 
granite  gave  me  a  luxurious  repose,  and  I  lay  on  the  edge 
of  our  little  rock  niche  and  watched  the  strange  yet  bril- 
liant scene. 

All  the  snow  of  our  recess  lay  in  the  shadow  of  the 
high  granite  wall  to  the  west,  but  the  Kern  divide  which 
curved  around  us  from  the  southeast  was  in  full  light ;  its 
broken  sky-line,  battlemented  and  adornedwith  innumer- 
able rough-hewn  spires  and  pinnacles,  was  a  mass  of 
glowing  orange  intensely  defined  against  the  deep  violet 
sky.  At  the  open  end  of  our  horseshoe  amphitheatre, 
to  the  east,  its  floor  of  snow  rounded  over  in  a  smooth 
brink,  overhanging  precipices  which  sank  two  thousand 
feet  into  the  King's  Canon.  Across  the  gulf  rose  the 
whole  procession  of  summit  peaks,  their  lower  halves 
rooted  in  a  deep  sombre  shadow  cast  by  the  western  wall, 
the  heights  bathed  in  a  warm  purple  haze,  in  which  the 
irregular  marbling  of  snow  burned  with  a  pure  crimson 
light.      A  few  fleecy  clouds,  dyed  fiery  orange,   drifted 


THE  ASCENT   OF   MOUNT   TYNDALL.  59 

slowly  eastward  across  the  narrow  zone  of  sky  which 
stretched  from  summit  to  summit  like  a  roof  At  times 
the  sound  of  waterfalls,  faint  and  mingled  with  echoes, 
floated  up  through  the  still  air.  The  snow  near  by  lay 
in  cold  ghastly  shade,  warmed  here  and  there  in  strange 
flashes  by  light  reflected  downward  from  drifting  clouds. 
The  sombre  waste  about  us ;  the  deep  violet  vault  over- 
head; those  far  summits,  glowing  with  reflected  rose; 
the  deep  impenetrable  gloom  which  filled  the  gorge,  and 
slowly  and  with  vapor-like  stealth  climbed  the  mountain 
wall  extinguishing  the  red  light,  combined  to  produce  an 
effect  which  may  not  be  described ;  nor  can  I  more  than 
hint  at  the  contrast  between  the  brilliancy  of  the  scene 
under  full  light,  and  the  cold,  deathlike  repose  which  fol- 
lowed when  the  wan  cliffs  and  pallid  snow  were  all  over- 
shadowed with  ghostly  gray. 

A  sudden  chill  enveloped  us.  Stars  in  a  moment 
crowded  through  the  dark  heaven,  flashing  with  a  frosty 
splendor.  The  snow  congealed,  the  brooks  ceased  to  flow, 
and,  under  the  powerful  sudden  leverage  of  frost,  immense 
blocks  were  dislodged  all  along  the  mountain  summits 
and  came  thundering  down  the  slopes,  booming  upon  the 
ice,  dashing  wildly  upon  rocks.  Under  the  lee  of  our 
shelf  we  felt  quite  safe,  but  neither  Cotter  nor  I  could 
help  being  startled,  and  jumping  just  a  little,  as  these 
missiles,  weighing  often  many  tons,  struck  the  ledge  over 
our  heads  and  whizzed  down  the  gorge,  their  stroke  re- 
sounding fainter  and  fainter,  until  at  last  only  a  confused 
echo  reached  us. 

The  thermometer  at  nine  o'clock  marked  twenty  de- 
grees above  zero.  We  set  the  "minimum"  and  rolled 
ourselves  together  for  the  night.  The  longer  I  lay  the 
less  I  liked  that  shelf  of  granite ;  it  grew  hard  in  time, 
and  cold  also,  my  bones  seeming  to  approach  actual  con- 


60  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

tact  with  the  chilled  rock ;  moreover,  I  found  that  even 
so  vigorous  a  circulation  as  mine  was  not  enough  to  warm 
up  the  ledge  to  anything  like  a  comfortable  temperature. 
A  single  thickness  of  blanket  is  a  better  mattress  than 
none,  but  the  larger  crystals  of  orthoclase,  protruding 
plentifully,  punched  my  back  and  caused  me  to  revolve  on 
a  horizontal  axis  with  precision  and  frequency.  How  I 
loved  Cotter  !  how  I  hugged  him  and  got  warm,  while 
our  backs  gradually  petrified,  till  we  whirled  over  and 
thawed  them  out  together !  The  slant  of  that  bed  was 
diagonal  and  excessive;  down  it  we  slid  till  the  ice 
chilled  us  awake,  and  we  crawled  back  and  chocked  our- 
selves up  with  bits  of  granite  inserted  under  my  ribs  and 
shoulders.  In  this  pleasant  position  we  got  dozing  again, 
and  there  stole  over  me  a  most  comfortable  ease.  The 
granite  softened  perceptibly.  I  was  delightfully  warm 
and  sank  into  an  industrious  slumber  which  lasted  with 
great  soundness  till  four,  when  we  rose  and  ate  our  break- 
fast of  frozen  venison. 

The  thermometer  stood  at  two  above  zero ;  everything 
was  frozen  tight  except  the  canteen,  wdiich  ^ve  had  pru- 
dently kept  between  us  all  night.  Stars  still  blazed 
brightly,  and  the  moon,  hidden  from  us  by  w^estern  cliffs, 
shone  in  pale  reflection  upon  the  rocky  heights  to  the 
east,  which  rose,  dimly  white,  up  from  the  impenetrable 
shadows  of  the  canon.  Silence,  —  cold,  ghastly  dimness,  in 
which  loomed  huge  forms,  —  the  biting  frostiness  of  the 
air,  wrought  upon  our  feelings  as  we  shouldered  our  packs 
and  started  w^ith  slow  pace  to  climb  toward  the  "  divide." 

Soon,  to  our  dismay,  we  found  the  straps  had  so  chafed 
our  shoulders  that  the  weight  gave  us  great  pain,  and 
obliged  us  to  pad  them  with  our  handkerchiefs  and 
extra  socks,  which  remedy  did  not  wholly  relieve  us  from 
the  constant  wearing  pain  of  the  heavy  load. 


THE   ASCENT    OF   MOUNT   TYNDALL.  61 

Directing  our  steps  southward  toward  a  niche  in  the 
wall  which  bounded  us  only  half  a  mile  distant,  we 
travelled  over  a  continuous  snow-field  frozen  so  densely 
as  scarcely  to  yield  at  all  to  our  tread,  at  the  same  time 
compressing  enough  to  make  that  crisp  frosty  sound 
which  we  all  used  to  enjoy  even  before  we  knew  from 
the  books  that  it  had  something  to  do  with  the  severe 
name  of  regelation. 

As  we  advanced,  the  snow  sloped  more  and  more 
steeply  up  toward  the  crags,  till  by  and  by  it  became 
quite  dangerous,  causing  us  to  cut  steps  with  Cotter's 
large  bowie-knife,  —  a  slow,  tedious  operation,  requiring 
patience  of  a  pretty  permanent  kind.  In  this  way  we 
spent  a  quiet  social  hour  or  so.  The  sun  had  not  yet 
reached  us,  being  shut  out  by  the  high  amphitheatre  wall ; 
but  its  cheerful  light  reflected  downv/ard  from  a  number 
of  higher  crags,  filling  the  recess  with  the  brightness  of 
day,  and  putting  out  of  existence  those  shadows  which  so 
sombrely  darkened  the  earlier  hours.  To  look  back  when 
we  stopped  to  rest  was  to  realize  our  danger,  —  that 
smooth  swift  slope  of  ice  carrying  the  eye  down  a  thou- 
sand feet  to  the  margin  of  a  frozen  mirror  of  ice  ;  ribs  and 
needles  of  rock  piercing  up  through  the  snow,  so  closely 
grouped  that,  had  we  fallen,  a  miracle  only  might  save 
us  from  being  dashed.  This  led  to  rather  deeper  steps, 
and  greater  care  that  our  burdens  should  be  held  more 
nearly  over  the  centre  of  gravity,  and  a  pleasant  relief 
when  we  got  to  the  top  of  the  snow  and  sat  down  on  a 
block  of  granite  to  breathe  and  look  up  in  search  of  a  way 
up  the  thousand-foot  cliff  of  broken  surface,  among  the 
lines  of  fracture  and  the  galleries  winding  along  tlie  face. 

It  would  have  disheartened  us  to  gaze  up  the  hard, 
sheer  front  of  precipices,  and  search  among  splintered 
projections,   crevices,   shelves,  and   snow-patches  for  an 


62  MOUNTAINEEEING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

inviting  route,  had  we  not  been  animated  by  a  faith 
that  the  mountains  couki  not  defy  us. 

Choosing  what  looked  like  the  least  impossible  way,  we 
started ;  but,  finding  it  unsafe  to  work  with  packs  on, 
resumed  the  yesterday's  plan,  —  Cotter  taking  the  lead, 
climbing  about  fifty  feet  ahead,  and  hoisting  up  the 
knapsacks  and  barometer  as  I  tied  them  to  the  end  of  the 
lasso.  Constantly  closing  up  in  hopeless  difficulty  before 
us,  the  way  opened  again  and  again  to  our  gymnastics,  till 
we  stood  together  upon  a  mere  shelf,  not  more  than  two 
feet  wide,  which  led  diagonally  up  the  smooth  cliff. 
Edging  along  in  careful  steps,  our  backs  flattened  upon 
the  granite,  we  moved  slowly  to  a  broad  platform,  where 
we  stopped  for  breath. 

There  was  no  foothold  above  us.  Looking  down  over 
the  course  we  had  come,  it  seemed,  and  I  really  believe 
it  was,  an  impossible  descent ;  for  one  can  climb  upward 
with  safety  where  he  cannot  downward.  To  turn  back  was 
to  give  up  in  defeat ;  and  we  sat  at  least  half  an  hour,  sug- 
gesting all  possible  routes  to  the  summit,  accepting  none, 
and  feeling  disheartened.  About  thirty  feet  directly  over 
our  heads  was  another  shelf,  which,  if  we  could  reach, 
seemed  to  offer  at  least  a  temporary  way  upward.  On  its 
edge  were  two  or  three  spikes  of  granite  ;  whether  firmly 
connected  with  the  cliff,  or  merely  blocks  of  debris,  we 
could  not  tell  from  below.  I  said  to  Cotter,  I  thought  of 
but  one  possible  plan  :  it  was  to  lasso  one  of  these  blocks, 
and  to  climb,  sailor -fashion,  hand  over  hand,  up  the  rope. 
In  the  lasso  I  had  perfect  confidence,  for  I  had  seen  more 
than  one  Spanish  bull  throw  his  whole  weight  against  it 
without  parting  a  strand.  The  shelf  was  so  narrow  that 
throwing  the  coil  of  rope  was  a  very  difficult  undertaking. 
I  tried  three  times,  and  Cotter  spent  five  minutes  vainly 
whirling  the  loop  up  at  the  granite  spikes.     At  last  I 


THE  ASCENT   OF   MOUNT   TYNDALL.^  63 

made  a  lucky  throw,  and  it  tightened  upon  one  of  the 
smaller  protuberances.  I  drew  the  noose  close,  and  very 
gradually  threw  my  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  upon  the 
rope  ;  then  Cotter  joined  me,  and,  for  a  moment,  we  both 
hung  our  united  weight  upon  it.  Whether  the  rock 
moved  slightly  or  wdiether  the>  lasso  stretched  a  little 
we  were  unable  to  decide ;  but  the  trial  must  be  made, 
and  I  began  to  climb  slowly.  The  smooth  precipice-face 
against  which  my  body  swung  offered  no  foothold,  and 
the  whole  climb  had  therefore  to  be  done  by  the  arms,  an 
effort  requiring  all  one's  determination.  When  about  half- 
way up  I  was  obliged  to  rest,  and,  curling  my  feet  in  the 
rope,  managed  to  relieve  my  arms  for  a  moment.  In  this 
position  I  could  not  resist  the  fascinating  temptation  of  a 
survey  downward. 

Straight  down,  nearly  a  thousand  feet  below,  at  the  foot 
of  the  rocks,  began  the  snow,  whose  steep,  roof-like  slope, 
exaggerated  into  an  almost  vertical  angle,  curved  down  in 
a  long  white  field,  broken  far  away  by  rocks  and  polished, 
round  lakes  of  ice. 

Cotter  looked  up  cheerfully  and  asked  how  I  was  mak- 
ing it ;  to  which  I  answered  that  I  had  plenty  of  wind 
left.  At  that  moment,  when  hanging  between  heaven 
and  earth,  it  was  a  deep  satisfaction  to  look  down  at  the 
wild  gulf  of  desolation  beneath,  and  up  to  unknown  dan- 
gers ahead,  and  feel  my  nerves  cool  and  unshaken. 

A  few  pulls  hand  over  hand  brought  me  to  the  edge  of 
the  shelf,  when,  throwing  an  arm  around  the  granite  spike, 
I  swung  my  body  upon  the  shelf  and  lay  down  to  rest, 
shouting  to  Cotter  that  I  was  all  right,  and  that  the 
prospects  upward  w^ere  capital.  After  a  few  moments' 
breathing  I  looked  over  the  brink  and  directed  my  com- 
rade to  tie  the  barometer  to  the  lower  end  of  the  lasso, 
which  he  did,  and  that  precious  instrument  was  hoisted 


64  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

to  my  station,  and  the  lasso  sent  down  twice  for  knap- 
sacks, after  which  Cotter  came  up  the  rope  in  his  very 
muscular  way  without  once  stopping  to  rest.  We  took 
our  loads  in  our  hands,  swinging  the  barometer  over  my 
shoulder,  and  climbed  up  a  shelf  w^hich  led  in  a  zigzag 
direction  upward  and  to  the  south,  bringing  us  out  at  last 
upon  the  thin  blade  of  a  ridge  wdiich  connected  a  short 
distance  above  with  the  summit.  It  was  formed  of  huge 
blocks,  shattered,  and  ready,  at  a  touch,  to  fall. 

So  narrow  and  sharp  was  the  upper  slope,  that  we 
dared  not  walk,  but  got  astride,  and  worked  slowly  along 
with  our  hands,  pushing  the  knapsacks  in  advance,  now 
and  then  holding  our  breath  when  loose  masses  rocked 
under  our  weight.  "^ 

Once  upon  the  summit,  a  grand  view  burst  upon  us: 
Hastening  to  step  upon  the  crest  of  the  divide,  which  was 
never  more  than  ten  feet  wide,  frequently  sharpened  to  a 
mere  blade,  we  looked  down  the  other  side,  and  were 
astonished  to  find  we  had  ascended  the  gentler  slope,  and 
that  the  rocks  fell  from  our  feet  in  almost  vertical  preci- 
pices for  a  thousand  feet  or  more.  A  glance  along  the 
summit  toward  the  highest  group  showed  us  that  any 
advance  in  that  direction  was  impossible,  for  the  thin 
ridge  was  gashed  down  in  notches  three  or  four  hundred 
feet  deep,  forming  a  procession  of  pillars,  obelisks,  and 
blocks  piled  upon  each  other,  and  looking  terribly  inse- 
cure. 

AVe  then  deposited  our  knapsacks  in  a  safe  place,  and, 
finding  that  it  was  already  noon,  determined  to  rest  a 
little  while  and  take  a  lunch  at  over  thirteen  thousand 
feet  above  the  sea. 

West  of  us  stretched  the  Mount  Brewer  wall  with  its 
succession  of  smooth  precipices  and  amphitheatre  ridges. 
To  the  north  the  great  gorge  of  the  King's  River  yawned 


THE   ASCENT   OF   MOUNT   TYNDALL.  65 

down  five  thousand  feet.  To  tlie  south  the  valley  of  the 
Kern,  opening  in  the  opposite  direction,  was  broader,  less 
deep,  but  more  filled  with  broken  masses  of  granite. 
Clustered  about  the  foot  of  the  divide  were  a  dozen 
alpine  lakes ;  the  higher  ones  blue  sheets  of  ice,  the 
lowest  completely  melted.  Still  lower  in  the  depths  of 
the  two  canons  we  could  see^  groups  of  forest  trees ; 
but  they  were  so  dim  and  so  distant  as  never  to  re- 
lieve the  prevalent  masses  of  rock  and  snow.  Our 
divide  cast  its  shadow  for  a  mile  down  King's  Canon  in 
dark  blue  profile  upon  the  broad  sheets  of  sunny  snow, 
from  whose  brightness  the  hard  splintered  cliffs  caught 
reflections  and  wore  an  aspect  of  joy.  Thousands  of  rills 
poured  from  the  melting  snow,  filling  the  air  with  a  musi- 
cal tinkle  as  of  many  accordant  bells.  The  Kern  Valley 
opened  below  us  with  its  smooth  oval  outline,  the  work 
of  extinct  glaciers,  whose  form  and  extent  were  evident 
from  worn  cliff-surface  and  rounded  wall ;  snow-fields, 
relics  of  the  former  neve,  hung  in  white  tapestries  around 
its  ancient  birthplace ;  and,  as  far  as  we  could  see,  the 
broad,  corrugated  valley,  for  a  breadth  of  fully  ten  miles, 
shone  with  burnishings  wherever  its  granite  surface  was 
not  covered  with  lakelets  or  thickets  of  alpine  vege- 
tation. 

Through  a  deep  cut  in  the  Mount  Brewer  wall  we 
gained  our  first  view  to  the  westward,  and  saw  in  the 
distance  the  wall  of  the  South  King's  Canon,  and  the 
granite  point  which  Cotter  and  I  had  climbed  a  fortnight 
before.  But  for  the  haze  we  might  have  seen  the  plain ; 
for  above  its  farther  limit  were  several  points  of  the  Coast 
Eanges,  isolated  hke  islands  in  the  sea. 

The  view  was  so  grand,  the  mountain  colors  so  brilliant, 
immense  snow-fields  and  blue  alpine  lakes  so  charming, 
that  we  almost  forgot  we  were  ever  to  move,  and  it  was 

E 


66  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

only  after  a  swift  hour  of  this  delight  that  we  began  to 
consider  our  future  course. 

The  King's  Canon,  which  headed  against  our  wall, 
seemed  untraversable,  —  no  human  being  could  climb 
along  the  divide ;  we  had  then  but  one  hope  of  reach- 
ing the  peak,  and  our  greatest  difficulty  lay  at  the  start. 
If  we  could  climb  down  to  the  Kern  side  of  the  divide, 
and  succeed  in  reaching  the  base  of  the  precipices  which 
fell  from  our  feet,  it  really  looked  as  if  w^e  might  travel 
witliout  difficulty  among  the  roclies  moutoimees  to  the  other 
side  of  the  Kern  Valley,  and  make  our  attempt  upon  the 
southward  flank  of  the  great  peak.  One  look  at  the  sub- 
lime white  giant  decided  us.  We  looked  down  over  the 
precipice,  and  at  first  could  see  no  method  of  descent. 
Then  we  went  back  and  looked  at  the  road  we  had  come 
up,  to  see  if  that  were  not  possibly  as  bad ;  but  the  broken 
surface  of  the  rocks  was  evidently  much  better  climbing- 
ground  than  anything  ahead  of  us.  Cotter,  with  danger, 
edged  his  way  along  the  wall  to  the  east,  and  I  to  the  wxst, 
to  see  if  there  might  not  be  some  favorable  point ;  but  we 
both  returned  with  the  belief  that  the  precipice  in  front 
of  us  was  as  passable  as  any  of  it.     Down  it  we  must. 

After  lying  on  our  faces,  looking  over  the  brink,  ten  or 
twenty  minutes,  I  suggested  that  by  lowering'  ourselves 
on  the  rope  we  might  climb  from  crevice  to  crevice ;  but 
we  saw  no  shelf  large  enough  for  ourselves  and  the  knap- 
sacks too.  However,  we  were  not  going  to  give  it  up 
without  a  trial ;  and  I  made  the  rope  fast  round  my 
breast,  and,  looping  the  noose  over  a  firm  point  of  rock, 
let  myself  slide  gradually  down  to  a  notch  forty  feet 
below.  There  was  only  room  beside  me  for  Cotter,  so  I 
made  him  send  down  the  knaj^sacks  first.  I  then  tied 
these  together  by  the  straps  with  my  silk  handkerchiefs, 
and  hung  them  off  as  far  to  the  left  as  I  could  reach  with- 


THE   ASCENT   OF   MOUNT   TYNDALL.  67 

out  losing  my  balance,  looping  the  handkerchiefs  over  a 
point  of  rock.  Cotter  then  slid  down  the  rope,  and,  with 
considerable  difficulty,  we  whipped  the  noose  off  its  rest- 
ing-place above,  and  cut  off  our  connection  with  the  upper 
world. 

"  We  're  in  for  it  now,  King,"  remarked  my  comrade, 
as  he  looked  aloft,  and  then  down ;  but  our  blood  was 
up,  and  danger  added  only  an  exhilarating  thrill  to  the 
nerves. 

The  shelf  was  hardly  more  than  two  feet  wide,  and  the 
granite  so  smooth  that  we  could  find  no  place  to  fasten 
the  lasso  for  the  next  descent ;  so  I  determined  to  try  the 
climb  with  only  as  little  aid  as  possible.  Tying  it  round 
my  breast  again,  I  gave  the  other  end  into  Cotter's  hands, 
and  he,  bracing  his  back  against  the  cliff,  found  for  him- 
self as  firm  a  foothold  as  he  could,  and  promised  to  give 
me  all  the  help  in  his  power.  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
bear  no  weight  unless  it  was  absolutely  necessary ;  and 
for  the  first  ten  feet  I  found  cracks  and  protuberances 
enough  to  support  me,  making  every  square  inch  of  sur- 
face do  friction  duty,  and  hugging  myself  against  the 
rocks  as  tightly  as  I  could.  When  within  about  eight 
feet  of  the  next  shelf,  I  twisted  myself  round  upon  the 
face,  hanging  by  two  rough  blocks  of  protruding  feldspar, 
and  looked  vainly  for  some  further  hand-hold ;  but  the 
rock,  beside  being  perfectly  smooth,  overhung  slightly, 
and  my  legs  dangled  in  the  air.  I  saw  that  the  next 
cleft  was  over  three  feet  broad,  and  I  thought,  possibly,  I 
might,  by  a  quick  slide,  reach  it  in  safety  without  endanger- 
ing Cotter.  I  shouted  to  him  to  be  very  careful  and  let 
go  in  case  I  fell,  loosened  my  hold  upon  the  rope,  and  slid 
quickly  down.  My  shoulder  struck  against  the  rock  and 
threw  me  out  of  balance  ;  for  an  instant  I  reeled  over 
upon  the  verge,  in  danger  of  falling,  but,  in  the  excite- 


68  MOUNT AINEEEING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

ment,  I  thrust  out  my  hand  and  seized  a  small  alpine 
gooseberry-bush,  the  first  piece  of  vegetation  we  had  seen. 
Its  roots  were  so  firmly  fixed  in  the  crevice  that  it  held 
my  weight  and  saved  me. 

I  could  no  longer  see  Cotter,  but  I  talked  to  him,  and 
heard  the  two  knapsacks  come  bumping  along  till  they 
slid  over  the  eaves  above  me,  and  swung  down  to  my 
station,  when  I  seized  the  lasso's  end  and  braced  myself 
as  w^ell  as  possible,  intending,  if  he  slipped,  to  haul  in 
slack  and  help  him  as  best  I  might.  As  he  came  slowly 
down  from  crack  to  crack,  I  heard  his  hobnailed  shoes 
grating  on  the  granite  ;  presently  they  appeared  dangling 
from  the  eaves  above  my  head.  I  had  gathered  in  the 
rope  until  it  was  taut,  and  then  hurriedly  told  him  to 
drop.  He  hesitated  a  moment,  and  let  go.  Before  he 
struck  the  rock  I  had  him  by  the  shoulder,  and  whirled 
him  down  upon  his  side,  thus  preventing  his  rolling  over- 
board, which  friendly  action  he  took  quite  coolly. 

The  third  descent  was  not  a  difficult  one,  nor  the 
fourth ;  but  when  we  had  climbed  down  about  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  feet,  the  rocks  were  so  glacially  polished 
and  water-worn  that  it  seemed  impossible  to  get  any 
farther.  To  our  right  was  a  crack  penetrating  the  rock 
perhaps  a  foot  deep,  widening  at  the  surface  to  three  or 
four  inches,  which  proved  to  be  the  only  possible  ladder. 
As  the  chances  seemed  rather  desperate,  we  concluded  to 
tie  ourselves  together,  in  order  to  share  a  common  fate ; 
and  with  a  slack  of  thirty  feet  between  us,  and  our 
knapsacks  upon  our  backs,  we  climbed  into  the  crevice, 
and  began  descending  with  our  faces  to  the  cliff.  This 
had  to  be  done  with  unusual  caution,  for  the  foothold 
was  about  as  good  as  none,  and  our  fingers  slipped  annoy- 
ingly  on  the  smooth  stone  ;  besides,  the  knapsacks  and 
instruments  kept  a  steady  backward  pull,  tending  to  over- 


THE  ASCENT   OF  MOUNT   TYNDALL.  69 

balance  us.  But  we  took  pains  to  descend  one  at  a  time, 
and  rest  wherever  the  niches  gave  our  feet  a  safe  support. 
In  this  way  we  got  down  about  eighty  feet  of  smooth, 
nearly  vertical  wall,  reaching  the  top  of  a  rude  granite 
stairway,  which  led  to  the  snow ;  and  here  we  sat  down 
to  rest,  and  found  to  our  astonishment  that  we  had  been 
three  hours  from  the  summit. 

After  breathing  a  half-minute  we  continued  down, 
jumping  from  rock  to  rock,  and,  having,  by  practice, 
become  very  expert  in  balancing  ourselves,  sprang  on, 
never  resting  long  enough  to  lose  the  a^plomh,  and  in  this 
manner  made  a  quick  descent  over  rugged  debris  to  the 
crest  of  a  snow-field,  which,  for  seven  or  eight  hundred 
feet  more,  swept  down  in  a  smooth,  even  slope,  of  very 
high  angle,  to  the  borders  of  a  frozen  lake. 

Without  untying  the  lasso  which  bound  us  together, 
we  sprang  upon  the  snow  with  a  shout,  and  glissaded 
down  splendidly,  turning  now  and  then  a  somersault,  and 
shooting  out  like  cannon-balls  almost  to  the  middle  of 
the  frozen  lake ;  I  upon  my  back,  and  Cotter  feet  first,  in 
a  swimming  position.  The  ice  cracked  in  all  directions. 
It  was  only  a  thin,  transparent  film,  through  which  we 
could  see  deep  into  the  lake.  Untying  ourselves,  we 
hurried  ashore  in  different  directions,  lest  our  combined 
weight  should  be  too  great  a  strain  upon  any  point. 

With  curiosity  and  wonder  we  scanned  every  shelf  and 
niche  of  the  last  descent.  It  seemed  quite  impossible  we 
could  have  come  down  there,  and  now  it  actually  was 
beyond  human  power  to  get  back  again.  But  what  cared 
we  ?  "  Sufficient  unto  the  day  —  "  We  were  bound  for 
that  still  distant,  though  gradually  nearing,  summit ;  and 
we  had  come  from  a  cold  shadowed  cliff  into  deliciously 
warm  sunshine,  and  were  jolly,  shouting,  singing  songs, 
and  calling  out  the  companionship  of  a  hundred  echoes. 


70  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

Six  miles  away,  with  no  grave  danger,  no  great  difficulty, 
between  us,  lay  the  base  of  our  grand  mountain.  Upon 
its  skirts  we  saw  a  little  grove  of  pines,  an  ideal  bivouac, 
and  toward  this  we  bent  our  course. 

After  the  continued  climbing  of  the  day,  walking  was 
a  delicious  rest,  and  forward  we  pressed  with  considerable 
speed,  our  hobnails  giving  us  firm  footing  on  the  glittering 
glacial  surface.  Every  fluting  of  the  great  valley  was  in 
itself  a  considerable  canon,  into  which  we  descended, 
climbing  down  the  scored  rocks,  and  swinging  from  block 
to  block,  until  we  reached  the  level  of  the  pines.  Here, 
sheltered  among  roches  moutonnees,  began  to  appear  little 
fields  of  alpine  grass,  pale  yet  sunny,  soft  under  our  feet, 
fragrantly  jewelled  with  flowers  of  fairy  delicacy,  holding 
up  amid  thickly  clustered  blades  chalices  of  turquoise 
and  amethyst,  white  stars,  and  fiery  little  globes  of  red. 
Lakelets,  small  but  innumerable,  were  held  in  glacial 
basins,  the  striae  and  grooves  of  that  old  dragon's  track 
ornamenting  their  smooth  bottoms. 

One  of  these,  a  sheet  of  pure  beryl  hue,  gave  us  much 
pleasure  from  its  lovely  transparency,  and  because  we 
lay  down  in  the  necklace  of  grass  about  it  and  smelled 
flowers,  while  tired  muscles  relaxed  upon  warm  beds  of 
verdure,  and  the  pain  in  our  burdened  shoulders  went 
away,  leaving  us  delightfully  comfortable. 

After  the  stern  grandeur  of  granite  and  ice,  and  with 
the  peaks  and  walls  still  in  view,  it  was  relief  to  find 
ourselves  again  in  the  region  of  life.  I  never  felt  for 
trees  and  flowers  such  a  sense  of  intimate  relationship 
and  sympathy.  Wlien  we  had  no  longer  excuse  for  rest- 
ing, I  invented  the  palpable  subterfuge  of  measuring  the 
altitude  of  the  spot,  since  the  few  clumps  of  low,  wide- 
boughed  pines  near  by  were  the  highest  living  trees.  So 
we  lay  longer  with  less  and  less  will  to  rise,  and  when 


THE   ASCENT   OF   MOUNT   TYNDALL.  71 

resolution  called  us  to  our  feet  the  getting-up  was  sorely 
like  Eip  Van  Winkle's  in  the  third  act. 

The  deep  glacial  canon-flutings  across  which  our  march 
then  lay  proved  to  be  great  consumers  of  time ;  indeed  it 
w^as  sunset  wiien  we  reached  the  eastern  ascent,  and  be- 
gan to  toil  up  through  scattered  pines,  and  over  trains  of 
moraine  rocks,  tow^ard  the  great  peak.  Stars  were 
already  flashing  brilliantly  in  the  sky,  and  the  low  glow- 
ins  arch  in  the  west  had  almost  vanished  when  we 
reached  the  upper  trees,  and  threw  down  our  knapsacks 
to  camp.  The  forest  grew  on  a  sort  of  plateau-shelf  with 
a  precipitous  front  to  the  west,  —  a  level  surface  which 
stretched  eastward  and  back  to  the  foot  of  our  moun- 
tain, w^hose  low^er  spurs  reached  within  a  mile  of  camp- 
Within  the  shelter  lay  a  huge  fallen  log,  like  all  these 
alpine  w^oods  one  mass  of  resin,  which  flared  up  when 
we  applied  a  match,  illuminating  the  whole  grove.  By 
contrast  with  the  darkness  outside,  we  seemed  to  be  in  a 
vast,  many-pillared  hall.  The  stream  close  by  afforded 
water  for  our  blessed  teapot ;  venison  frizzled  with  mild, 
appetizing  sound  upon  the  ends  of  pine  sticks ;  matchless 
beans  allow^ed  themselves  to  become  seductively  crisp 
upon  our  tin  plates.  That  supper  seemed  to  me  then  the 
quintessence  of  gastronomy,  and  I  am  sure  Cotter  and  I 
must  have  said  some  very  good  ajjres-diner  things,  though 
I  long  ago  forgot  them  all.  Within  the  ring  of  warmth, 
on  elastic  beds  of  pine-needles,  ^ve  curled  up,  and  fell 
swiftly  into  a  sound  sleep. 

I  woke  up  once  in  the  night  to  look  at  my  watch,  and 
observed  that  the  sky  was  overcast  with  a  thin  film  of 
cirrus  cloud  to  which  the  reflected  moonlight  lent  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  glimmering  tint,  stretched  from  mountain 
to  mountain  over  canons  filled  with  impenetrable  dark- 
ness, only  the  vaguely  lighted  peaks  and  white  snow- 


72  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

fields  distinctly  seen.  I  closed  my  eyes  and  slept 
soundly  until  Cotter  woke  me  at  half  past  three,  when 
we  arose,  breakfasted  by~  the  light  of  our  fire,  which  still 
blazed  brilliantly,  and,  leaving  our  knapsacks,  started  for 
the  mountain  with  only  instruments,  canteens,  and 
luncheon. 

In  the  indistinct  moonhght  climbing  was  very  difficult 
at  first,  for  we  liad  to  thread  our  way  along  a  plain  which 
was  literally  covered  with  glacier  boulders,  and  the  in- 
numerable brooks  which  we  crossed  were  frozen  solid. 
However,  our  march  brought  us  to  the  base  of  the  great 
mountain,  which,  rising  high  against  the  east,  shut  out 
the  coming  daylight,  and  kept  us  in  profound  shadow. 
From  base  to  summit  rose  a  series  of  broken  crags,  lift- 
ing themselves  from  a  general  slope  of  dehris.  Toward 
the  left  the  angle  seemed  to  be  rather  gentler,  and  the 
surface  less  ragged;  and  we  hoped,  by  a  long  detour 
round  the  base,  to  make  an  easy  climb  up  this  gentler 
face.  So  we  toiled  on  for  an  hour  over  the  rocks,  reach- 
ing at  last  the  bottom  of  the  north  slope.  Here  our  work 
began  in  good  earnest.  The  blocks  were  of  enormous 
size,  and  in  every  stage  of  unstable  equilibrium,  frequently 
rolling  over  as  we  jumped  upon  them,  making  it  neces- 
sary for  us  to  take  a  second  leap  and  land  where  we  best 
could.  To  our  relief  we  soon  surmounted  the  largest 
blocks,  reaching  a  smaller  size,  which  served  us  as  a  sort 
of  stairway. 

The  advancing  daylight  revealed  to  us  a  very  long, 
comparatively  even  snow-slope,  whose  surface  was 
pierced  by  many  knobs  and  granite  heads,  giving  it 
the  aspect  of  an  ice-roofing  fastened  on  with  bolts  of 
stone.  It  stretched  in  far  perspective  to  the  summit, 
where  already  the  rose  of  sunrise  reflected  gloriously, 
kindhng  a  fresh  enthusiasm  within  us. 


THE  ASCENT   OF   MOUNT   TYNDALL.  73 

Immense  boulders  were  partly  embedded  in  the  ice 
just  above  us,  whose-  constant  melting  left  them  trem- 
bling on  the  edge  of  a  fall.  It  Communicated  no  very 
pleasant  sensation  to  see  above  you  these  immense  mis- 
siles hanging  by  a  mere  band,  and  knowing  that,  as  soon 
as  the  sun  rose,  you  would  be  exposed  to  a  constant  can- 
'nonade. 

The  east  side  of  the  peak,  which  we  could  now  par- 
tially see,  was  too  precij^itous  to  think  of  climbing.  The 
slope  toward  our  camp  was  too  much  broken  into  pinna- 
cles and  crags  to  offer  us  any  hope,  or  to  divert  us  from 
the  single  way,  dead  ahead,  up  slopes  of  ice  and  among 
fragments  of  granite.  The  sun  rose  upon  us  while  we 
were  climbing  the  lower  part  of  this  snow,  and  in  less 
than  half  an  hour,  melting,  began  to  liberate  huge  blocks, 
which  thundered  down  past  us,  gathering  and  growing 
into  small  avalanches  below. 

We  did  not  dare  climb  one  above  another,  according  to 
our  ordinary  mode,  but  kept  about  an  equal  level,  a  hun- 
dred feet  apart,  lest,  dislodging  the  blocks,  one  shoidd  hurl 
them  down  upon  the  other. 

We  climbed  alternately  up  smooth  faces  of  granite, 
clinging  simply  by  the  cracks  and  protruding  crystals  of 
feldspar,  and  then  hewed  steps  up  fearfully  steep  slopes 
of  ice,  zigzagging  to  the  right  and  left  to  avoid  the  flying 
boulders.  When  midway  up  this  slope  we  reached  a  place 
where  the  granite  rose  in  perfectly  smooth  bluffs  on  either 
side  of  a  gorge,  —  a  narrow  cut,  or  walled  way,  leading  up 
to  the  flat  summit  of  the  cliff'.  This  we  scaled  by  cutting 
ice  steps,  only  to  find  ourselves  fronted  again  by  a  stiU 
higher  wall.  Ice  sloped  from  its  front  at  too  steep  an 
angle  for  us  to  follow,  but  had  melted  in  contact  with  it, 
leaving  a  space  three  feet  wide  between  the  ice  and  the 
rock.      We  entered  this  crevice  and  climbed  along  its 


74  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

bottom,  with  a  wall  of  rock  rising  a  hundred  feet  above 
us  on  one  side,  and  a  thirty-foot  face  of  ice  on  the  other, 
through  which  light  of  an  intense  cobalt-blue  penetrated. 

Eeaching  the  upper  end,  we  had  to  cut  our  footsteps 
upon  the  ice  again,  and,  having  braced  our  backs  against 
the  granite,  chmb  up  to  the  surface.  We  were  now  in  a 
dangerous  position  :  to  fall  into  the  crevice  upon  one  side 
was  to  be  wedged  to  death  between  rock  and  ice  ;  to  make 
a  slip  was  to  be  shot  down  five  hundred  feet,  and  then 
hurled  over  the  brink  of  a  precipice.  In  the  friendly  seat 
which  this  wedge  gave  me,  I  stopped  to  take  wet  and  dry 
observations  with  the  thermometer,  —  this  being  an  abso- 
lute preventive  of  a  scare,  —  and  to  enjoy  the  view. 

The  wall  of  our  mountain  sank  abruptly  to  the  left, 
opening  for  the  first  time  an  outlook  to  the  eastward. 
Deep  —  it  seemed  almost  vertically  —  beneath  us  we 
could  see  the  blue  water  of  Owen's  Lake,  ten  thousand 
feet  down.  The  summit  peaks  to  the  north  were  piled  in 
titanic  confusion,  their  ridges  overhanging  the  eastern 
slope  with  terrible  abruptness.  Clustered  upon  the 
shelves  and  plateaus  below  were  several  frozen  lakes, 
and  in  all  directions  swept  magnificent  fields  of  snow. 
The  summit  was  now  not  over  five  hundred  feet  distant, 
and  we  started  on  again  with  the  exhilarating  hope  of 
success.  But  if  Nature  had  intended  to  secure  the  sum- 
mit from  all  assailants,  she  could  not  have  planned  her 
defences  better ;  for  the  smooth  granite  wall  which  rose 
above  the  snow-slope  continued,  apparently,  quite  round 
the  peak,  and  we  looked  in  great  anxiety  to  see  if  there 
was  not  one  place  where  it  might  be  climbed.  It  was  all 
blank  except  in  one  place ;  quite  near  us  the  snow  bridged 
across  the  crevice,  and  rose  in  a  long  point  to  the  summit 
of  the  wall,  —  a  great  icicle-column  frozen  in  a  niche  of 
the  bluff,  —  its  base  about  ten  feet  wide,  narrowing  to 


THE  ASCENT   OF   MOUNT   TYNDALL.  75 

two  feet  at  the  top.  We  climbed  to  the  base  of  this  spire 
of  ice,  and,  with  the  utmost  care,  began  to  cut  our  stair- 
way. Tlie  material  was  an  exceedingly  compacted  snow, 
passing  into  clear  ice  as  it  neared  the  rock.  We  climbed 
the  first  half  of  it  with  comparative  ease ;  after  that  it 
was  almost  vertical,  and  so  thin  that  we  did  not  dare  to 
cut  the  footsteps  deep  enough  to  make  them  absolutely 
safe. ,  There  was  a  constant  dread  lest  our  ladder  should 
break  off,  and  we  be  thrown  either  down  the  snow-slope 
or  into  the  bottom  of  the  crevasse.  At  last,  in  order  to 
prevent  myself  from  falling  over  backwards,  I  was  obliged 
to  thrust  my  hand  into  the  crack  between  the  ice  and  the 
wall,  and  the  spire  became  so  narrow  that  I  could  do  this 
on  both  sides  ;  so  that  the  climb  was  made  as  upon  a  tree, 
cutting  mere  toe-holes  and  embracing  the  whole  column 
of  ice  in  my  arms.  At  last  I  reached  the  top,  and,  with 
the  greatest  caution,  wormed  my  body  over  the  brink,  and, 
rolling  out  upon  the  smooth  surface  of  the  granite,  looked 
over  and  watched  Cotter  make  his  climb.  He  came 
steadily  up,  with  no  sense  of  nervousness,  until  he  got 
to  tlie  narrow  part  of  the  ice,  and  here  he  stopped  and 
looked  up  with  a  forlorn  face  to  me  ;  but  as  he  climbed 
up  over  the  edge  the  broad  smile  came  back  to  his  face, 
and  he  asked  me  if  it  had  occurred  to  me  that  we  had,  by 
and  by,  to  go  down  again. 

We  had  now  an  easy  slope  to  the  summit,  and  hurried 
up  over  rocks  and  ice,  reaching  the  crest  at  exactly  twelve 
o'clock.  I  rang  my  hammer  upon  the  topmost  rock  ;  we 
grasped  hands,  and  I  reverently  named  the  grand  peak 
Mount  Tyndall. 


76  MOUNTAINEERING  TN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 


IV. 

THE  DESCENT   OF  MOUNT  TYNDALL. 

To  our  surprise,  upon  sweeping  the  horizon  with  my 
level,  there  appeared  two  peaks  equal  in  height  with  us, 
and  two  rising  even  higher.  That  which  looked  highest 
of  all  was  a  cleanly  cut  helmet  of  granite  upon  the  same 
ridge  with  Mount  Tyndall,  lying  about  six  miles  south, 
and  fronting  the  desert  with  a  bold  square  bluff  which 
rises  to  the  crest  of  the  peak,  where  a  white  fold  of  snow 
trims  it  gracefully. 

Mount  Whitney,  as  we  afterwards  called  it  in  honor  of 
our  chief,  is  probably  the  highest  land  within  the  Uniteji 
States.     Its  summit  looked  glorious,  but  inaccessible. 

The  general  topography  overlooked  by  us  may  be  thus 
simply  outlined.  Two  parallel  chains,  enclosing  an  inter- 
mediate trough,  face  each  other.  Across  this  deep  en- 
closed gulf,  from  wall  to  wall,  juts  the  thin,  but  lofty  and 
craggy  ridge,  or  "  divide,"  before  described,  which  forms 
an  important  water-shed,  sending  those  streams  which 
enter  the  chasm  north  of  it  into  King's  Eiver,  those 
south  forming  the  most  important  sources  of  the  Kern, 
whose  straight,  rapidly  deepening  valley  stretches  south, 
carved  profoundly  in  granite,  while  the  King's,  after 
flowing  longitudinally  in  the  opposite  course  for  eight  or 
ten  miles,  turns  abruptly  w^est  around  the  base  of  Mount 
Brewer,  cuts  across  the  western  ridge,  opening  a  gate  of 
its  own,  and  carves  a  rock  channel  transversely  down  the 
Sierra  to  the  California  plain. 


THE  DESCENT   OF   MOUNT   TYNDALL.  7^ 

Fronting  ns  stood  the  west  chain,  a  great  mural  ridge 
watched  over  by  two  dominant  heights,  Kaweah  Peak 
and  Mount  Brewer,  its  wonderful  profile  defining  against 
the  western  sky  a  multitude  of  peaks  and  spires.  Bold 
buttresses  jut  out  through  fields  of  ice,  and  reach  down 
stone  arms  among  snow  and  debris.  North  and  south  of 
us  the  higher,  or  eastern,  summit  stretched  on  in  miles 
and  miles  of  snow-peaks,  the  farthest  horizon  still 
crowded  with  their  white  points.  East  the  whole  range 
fell  in  sharp,  hurrying  abruptness  to  the  desert,  where, 
ten  thousand  feet  below,  lay  a  vast  expanse  of  arid  plain 
intersected  by  low  parallel  ranges,  traced  from  north  to 
south.  Upon  the  one  side  a  thousand  sculptures  of  stone, 
hard,  sharp,  shattered  by  cold  into  infiniteness  of  frac- 
tures and  rift,  springing  up,  mutely  severe,  into  the  dark, 
austere  blue  of  heaven ;  scarred  and  marked,  except  where 
snow  or  ice,  spiked  down  by  ragged  granite  bolts,  shields 
with  its  pale  armor  these  rough  mountain  shoulders; 
storm-tinted  at  summit,  and  dark  where,  swooping  down 
from  ragged  cliff,  the  rocks  plunge  over  canon-walls  into 
blue,  silent  gulfs. 

Upon  the  other  hand,  reaching  out  to  horizons  faint 
and  remote,'  lay  plains  clouded  with  the  ashen  hues 
of  death;  stark,  wind-swept  floors  of  white,  and  hill- 
ranges,  rigidly  formal,  monotonously  low,  all  lying 
under  an  unfeeling  brilliance  of  light,  which,  for  all 
its  strange,  unclouded  clearness,  has  yet  a  vague  half- 
darkness,  a  suggestion  of  black  and  shade  more  truly  pa- 
thetic than  fading  twilight.  No  greenness  soothes,  no 
shadow  cools  the  glare.  Owen's  Lake,  an  oval  of  acrid 
water,  lies  dense  blue  upon  the  brown  sage-plain,  looking 
like  a  plate  of  hot  metal.  Traced  in  ancient  beach-lines, 
here  and  there  upon  hill  and  plain,  relics  of  ancient  lake- 
shore  outline  the  memory  of  a  cooler  past,  —  a  period  of 


78  ]\IOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

life  and  verdure  when  the  stony  chains  were  green 
islands  among  basins  of  wide,  watery  expanse. 

The  two  halves  of  this  view,  both  in  sight  at  once,  ex- 
press the  highest,  the  most  acute,  aspects  of  desolation, — 
inanimate  forms  out  of  which  something  living  has  gone 
forever.  From  the  desert  have  been  dried  up  and  blown 
away  its  seas.  Their  shores  and  white,  salt-strewn  bot- 
toms lie  there  in  the  eloquence  of  death.  Sharp  white 
lioht  Mances  from  all  the  mountain-walls,  where  in  marks 
and  polishings  has  been  written  the  epitaph  of  glaciers 
now  melted  and  vanished  into  air.  Vacant  canons  lie 
open  to  the  sun,  bare,  treeless,  half  shrouded  with  snow, 
cumbered  with  loads  of  broken  debris,  still  as  graves, 
except  wdien  flights  of  rocks  rush  down  some  chasm's 
throat,  startling  the  mountains  with  harsh,  dry  rattle, 
their  fainter  echoes  from  below  followed  too  quickly  by 
dense  silence. 

The  serene  sky  is  grave  with  nocturnal  darkness.  The 
earth  blinds  you  with  its  light.  That  fair  contrast  we 
love  in  lower  lands  between  .bright  heavens  and  dark  cool 
earth  here  reverses  itself  with  terrible  energy.  You  look 
up  into  an  infinite  vault,  unveiled  by  clouds,  empty  and 
dark,  from  which  no  brightness  seems  to  ray,  an  expanse 
with  no  graded  perspective,  no  tremble,  no  vapory  mobil- 
ity, only  the  vast  yawning  of  hollow  space. 

With  an  aspect  of  endless  remoteness  burns  the  small 
white  sun,  yet  its  light  seems  to  pass  invisibly  through 
the  sky,  blazing  out  with  intensity  upon  mountain  and 
plain,  flooding  rock  details  with  painfully  bright  reflec- 
tions, and  lighting  up  the  burnt  sand  and  stone  of  the 
desert  with  a  strange  blinding  glare.  There  is  no  senti- 
ment of  beauty  in  the  whole  scene  ;  no  suggestion,  how-^ 
ever  far  remote,  of  sheltered  landscape  ;  not  even  the  air 
of  virgin  hospitality  that  greets  us  explorers  in  so  many 


THE   DESCENT   OF   MOUNT   TYNDALL.  79 

uninhabited  spots  wliicli  by  tlieir  fertility  and  loveliness 
of  grove  or  meadow  seem  to  offer  man  a  home,  or  us 
nomads  a  pleasant  camp-ground.  Silence  and  desolation 
are  the  themes  which  nature  has  wrought  out  under  this 
eternally  serious  sky.  A  faint  suggestion  of  life  clings 
about  the  middle  altitudes  of  the  eastern  slope,  where 
black  companies  of  pine,  stunted  from  breathing  the  hot 
desert  air,  group  themselves  just  beneath  the  bottom  of 
perpetual  snow,  or  grow  in  patches  of  cloudy  darkness 
over  the  moraines,  those  piles  of  wreck  crowded  from 
their  pathway  by  glaciers  long  dead.  Something  there  is 
pathetic  in  the  very  emptiness  of  these  old  glacier  valleys, 
these  imperishable  tracks  of  unseen  engines.  One's  eye 
ranges  up  their  broad,  open  channel  to  the  shrunken  white 
fields  surrounding  hollow  amphitheatres  which  were  once 
crowded  with  deep  burdens  of  snow,  —  the  birthplace  of 
rivers  of  ice  now  wholly  melted ;  the  dry,  clear  heavens 
overhead,  blank  of  any  promise  of  ever  rebuilding  them. 
I  have  never  seen  Nature  when  she  seemed  so  little 
"  Mother  Nature "  as  in  this  place  of  rocks  and  snow, 
echoes  and  emptiness.  It  impresses  me  as  the  ruins  of 
some  bygone  geological  period,  and  no  part  of  the  present 
order,  like  a  specimen  of  chaos  which  has  defied  the 
finishing  hand  of  Time. 

Of  course  I  see  its  bearings  upon  climate,  and  could 
read  a  lesson  quite  glibly  as  to  its  usefulness  as  a  con- 
denser, and  tell  you  gravely  how  much  California  has  for 
which  she  may  thank  these  heights,  and  how  little  Ne- 
vada ;  but  looking  from  this  summit  with  all  desire  to 
see  everything,  the  one  overmastering  feeling  is  deso- 
lation, desolation  ! 

Next  to  this,  and  more  pleasing  to  notice,  is  the  in- 
terest and  richness  of  the  granite  forms ;  for  the  whole 
region,  from  plain  to  plain,  is  built  of  this  dense  solid 


80  MOUNTAINEERING   IN   THE    SIERRA   NEVADA. 

rock,  and  is  sculptured  under  chisel  of  cold  in  sliapes  of 
great  variety,  yet  all  having  a  common  spirit,  which  is 
purely  Gothic. 

In  the  much  discussed  origin  of  this  order  of  building, 
I  never  remember  to  have  seen,  though  it  can  hardly  have 
escaped  mention,  any  suggestion  of  the  possibility  of  the 
Gothic  'having  been  inspired  by  granite  forms.  Yet,  as  I 
sat  on  Mount  Tyndall,  the  whole  mountains  shaped  them- 
selves like  the  ruins  of  cathedrals,  —  sharp  roof-ridges, 
pinnacled  and  statued ;  buttresses  more  spired  and  orna- 
mented than  Milan's ;  receding  doorways  with  pointed 
arches  carved  into  blank  facades  of  granite,  doors  never 
to  be  opened,  innumerable  jutting  points  with  here  and 
tliere  a  single  cruciform  peak,  its  frozen  roof  and  granite 
spires  so  strikingly  Gothic  I  cannot  doubt  that  the  Alps 
furnished  the  models  for  early  cathedrals  of  xh^t  order. 

I  thoroughly  eiijoyed  the  silence,  which,  gratefully  con- 
trasting with  the  surrounding  tumult  of  form,  conveyed 
to  me  a  new  sentiment.  I  have  lain  and  listened  through 
the  heavy  calm  of  a  tropical  voyage,  hour  after  hour, 
longing  for  a  sound  ;  and  in  desert  nights  the  dead  still- 
ness has  many  a  time  awakened  me  from  sleep.  For 
moments,  too,  in  my  forest  life,  the  groves  made  absolutely 
no  breath  of  movement ;  but  there  is  around  these  sum- 
mits the  soundlessness  of  a-  vacuum.  The  sea  stilhiess 
is  that  of  sleep.  The  desert  of  death,  this  silence  is 
like  the  w^aveless  calm  of  sj)ace. 

All  the  while  I  made  my  instrumental  observations 
the  fascination  of  the  view  so  held  me  that  I  felt  no  sur- 
prise at  seeing  w^ater  boiling  over  our  little  fagot  blaze 
at  a  temperature  of  one  hundred  and  ninety- two  degrees 
F.,  nor  in  observing  the  barometrical  column  stand  at 
17.99  inches  ;  and  it  was  not  till  a  week  or  so  after 
that  I  realized  we  had  felt  none  of  the  conventional  sen- 


THE   DESCENT   OF   MOUNT   TYNDALL.  81 

sations  of  nausea,  headache,  and  I  don't  know  what  all, 
tliat  people  are  supposed  to  suffer  at  extreme  altitudes ; 
but  these  things  go  with  guides  and  porters,  I  believe, 
and  with  coming  down  to  one's  hotel  at  evening  there  to 
scold  one's  .picturesque  mibergiste  in  a  French  which 
strikes  upon  his  ear  as  a  foreign  tongue ;  possibly  all  that 
will  come  to  us  with  advancing  time,  and  what  is  known 
as  "  doing  America."  They  are  already  shooting  our 
buffaloes  ;  it  cannot  be  long  be/ore  they  will  cause  them- 
selves to  be  honorably  dragged  up  and  down  our  Sierras, 
with  perennial  yellow  gaiter,  and  ostentation  of  bath- 
tub. 

Having  completed  our  observations,  we  packed  up  the 
instruments,  glanced  once  again  around  the  whole  field  of 
view,  and  descended  to  the  top  of  our  icicle  ladder.  Upon 
looking  over,  I  saw  to  my  consternation  that  during  the 
day  the  upper  half  had  broken  off.  Scars  traced  down 
upon  the  snow-field  below  it  indicated  the  manner  of  its 
fall,  and  far  below,  upon  the  shattered  clehris,  were  strewn 
its  white  relics.  I  saw  that  nothing  but  the  sudden  gift 
of  wings  could  possibly  take  us  down  to  the  snow-ridge. 
We  held  council  and  concluded  to  climb  quite  round  the 
peak  in  search  of  the  best  mode  of  descent. 

As  w^e  crept  about  the  east  face,  we  could  look  straight 
down  upon  Owen's  Yalley,  and  into  the  vast  glacier 
gorges,  and  over  piles  of  moraines  and  fluted  rocks,  and 
the  frozen  lakes  of  the  eastern  slope.  When  we  reached 
the  southwest  front  of  the  mountain  we  found  that  its 
general  form  was  that  of  an  immense  horseshoe,  the 
great  eastern  ridge  forming  one  side,  and  the  spur  which 
descended  to  our  camp  the  other,  we  having  climbed  up 
the  outer  part  of  the  toe.  Within  the  curve  of  the  horse- 
shoe was  a  gorge,  cut  almost  perpendicularly  down  two 
thousand  feet,  its  side  rough-hewn  walls  of  rocks  and 

4*  F 


82  MOUNTAINEERmG  IN  THE   SIERRA  KEVADA. 

snoWj  its  narrow  bottom  almost  a  continuous  chain  of 
deep  blue  lakes  with  loads  of  ice  and  debris  piles.  The 
stream  which  flowed  through  them  joined  the  waters  from 
our  home  grove,  a  couple  of  miles  below  the  camp.  If 
we  could  reach  the  level  of  the  lakes,  I  beheved  we  might 
easily  chmb  round  them,  and  out  of  the  upper  end  of  the 
horseshoe,  and  walk  upon  the  Kern  plateau  round  to  our 
bivouac. 

It  required  a  couple  of  hours  of  very  painstaking  de- 
liberate climbing  to  get  down  the  first  descent,  which  we 
did,  however,  without  hurting  our  barometer,  and  for- 
tunately without  the  fatiguing  use  of  the  lasso  ;  reaching 
finally  the  uppermost  lake,  a  granite  bowlful  of  cobalt- 
blue  water,  transparent  and  unrippled  So  high  and 
enclosing  were  the  tall  waUs  about  us,  so  narrow  and 
shut  in  the  canon,  so  flattened  seemed  the  cover  of  sky, 
we  felt  oppressed  after  the  expanse  and  freedom  of  our 
hours  on  the  summit. 

The  snow-field  we  followed,  descending  farther,  was 
irregularly  honeycombed  in  deep  pits,  circular  or  ir- 
regular in  form,  and  melted  to  a  greater  or  less  depth, 
holding  each  a  large  stone  embedded  in  the  bottom.  It 
seems  they  must  have  fallen  from  the  overhanging  heights 
with  sufficient  force  to  plunge  into  the  snow. 

Brilliant  light  and  strong  color  met  our  eyes  at  every 
glance,  —  the  rocks  of  a  deep  purple-red  tint,  the  pure 
alpine  lakes  of  a  cheerful  sapphire  blue,  the  snow  giitter- 
ingiy  white.  The  waUs  on  either  side  for  half  their 
height  were  planed  and  polished  by  glaciers,  and  from 
the  smoothly  glazed  sides  the  sun  was  reflected  as  from  a 
mirror. 

Mile  after  mile  we  walked  cautiously  over  the  snow, 
and  climbed  around  the  margins  of  lakes,  and  over  piles 
of  debris  which  marked  the  ancient  terminal  moraines. 


THE   DESCENT   OF  MOUNT   TYNDALL.  83 

At*  length  we  reached  the  end  of  the  horseshoe,  where 
the  walls  contracted  to  a  gateway,  rising  on  either  side 
in  immense  vertical  pillars  a  thousand  feet  high. 
Through  this  gateway  we  could  look  down  the  valley 
of  the  Kern,  and  beyond  to  the  gentler  ridges  wliere  a 
smooth  growth  of  forest  darkened  the  rolling  plateau. 
Passing  the  last  snow,  we  walked  through  this  gateway 
and  turned  westward  round  the  spur  toward  our  camp. 
The  three  miles  which  closed  our  walk  were  alternately 
through  groves  of  Pinus  Jlexilis  and  upon  plains  of 
granite. 

The  glacier  sculpture  and  planing  are  here  very  beauti- 
ful, the  large  crystals  of  orthoclase  with  which  the  granite 
is  studded  being  cut  down  to  the  common  level,  their 
rosy  tint  making  with  the  w^hite  base  a  beautiful  bur- 
nished porphyry. 

The  sun  was  still  an  hour  high  when  we  reached 
camp,  and  with  a  feeling  of  relaxation  and  repose  we 
threw  ourselves  down  to  rest  by  the  log,  which  still  con- 
tinued blazing.     We  had  accomplished  our  purpose. 

During  the  last  hour  or  two  of  our  tramp  Cotter  had 
complained  of  his  shoes,  which  were  rapidly  going  to 
pieces.  Upon  examination  we  found  to  our  dismay  that 
there  was  not  over  half  a  day's  wear  left  in  them,  a  ca- 
lamity which  gave  to  our  difficult  homeward  climb  a  new 
element  of  danger.  The  last  nail  had  been  worn  from 
my  own  shoes,  and  the  soles  were  scratched  to  the  quick, 
but  I  believed  them  stout  enough  to  hold  together  till  we 
should  reach  the  main  camp. 

We  planned  a  pair  of  moccasins  for  Cotter,  and  then 
spent  a  pleasant  evening  by  the  camp-fire,  rehearsing  our 
climb  to  the  detail,  sleep  finally  overtaking  us  and  hold- 
ing us  fast  bound  until  broad  daylight  next  morning, 
when  we  woke  with  a  sense  of  having  slept  for  a  week. 


84  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

quite  bright  and  perfectly  refreshed  for  our  homeward 
journey. 

After  a  frugal  breakfast,  in  which  we  limited  ourselves 
to  a  few  cubic  inches  of  venison,  and  a  couple  of  stingy 
slices  of  bread,  with  a  single  meagre  cup  of  diluted  tea, 
we  shouldered  our  knapsacks,  which  now  sat  lightly  upon 
toughened  shoulders,  and  marched  out  uj)on  the  granite 
plateau. 

We  had  concluded  that  it  was  impossible  to  retrace 
our  former  way,  knowing  well  that  the  precipitous  divide 
could  not  be  climbed  from  this  side ;  then,  too,  w^e  had 
gained  such  confidence  in  our  climbing  powers,  from  con- 
stant victory,  that  we  concluded  to  attempt  the  passage 
of  the  great  King's  Canon,  mainly  because  this  was  the 
only  mode  of  reaching  camp,  and  since  the  geological 
section  of  the  granite  it  exposed  would  afford  us  an  ex- 
ceedingly instructive  study. 

The  broad  granite  plateau  which  forms  the  upper 
region  of  the  Kern  Yalley  slopes  in  general  inclination 
up  to  the  great  divide.  This  remarkably  pinnacled  ridge, 
where  it  approaches  the  Mount  Tyndall  wall,  breaks  down 
into  a  broad  depression  wdiere  the  Kern  Yalley  sweeps 
northward,  until  it  suddenly  breaks  off  in  precipices  three 
thousand  feet  down  into  the  King's  Canon. 

The  morning  was  wholly  consumed  in  walking  up  this 
gently  inclined  plane  of  granite,  our  way  leading  over 
the  glacier-polished  foldings  and  along  gTaded  undula- 
tions among  labyrinths  of  alpine  garden  and  wildernesses 
of  erratic  boulders,  little  lake-basins,  and  scattered  clusters 
of  dwarfed  and  sombre  pine. 

About  noon  we  came  suddenly  upon  the  brink  of  a 
precipice  which  sunk  sharply  from  our  feet  into  the  gulf 
of  the  King's  Canon.  Directly  opposite  us  rose  Mount 
Brewer  and  up  out  of  the  depths  of  those  vast  sheets 


THE  DESCKNT   OF  MOUNT   TYNDALL.  85 

of  frozen  snow  swept  spiry  buttress-ridges,  dividing  the 
upper  heights  into  tliose  amphitheatres  over  which  we 
had  struggled  on  our  outward  journey.  Straight  across 
from  our  point  of  view  was  the  chamber  of  rock  and  ice 
wliere  we  had  camped  on  the  first  night.  The  wall  at 
our  feet  fell  sharp  and  rugged,  its  lower  two-thirds  hidden 
from  our  view  by  the  projections  of  a  thousand  feet  of 
crags.  Here  and  there,  as  we  looked  down,  small  patches 
of  ice,  held  in  rough  hollows,  rested  upon  the  steep  sur- 
face, but  it  was  too  abrupt  for  any  great  fields  of  snow. 
I  dislodged  a  boulder  upon  the  edge  and  watched  it 
bound  down  the  rocky  precipice,  dash  over  eaves  a  thou- 
sand feet  below  us,  and  disappear ;  the  crash  of  its  fall  com- 
ing up  to  us  from  the  unseen  depths  fainter  and  fainter, 
until  the  air  only  trembled  with  confused  echoes. 

A  long  look  at  the  pass  to  the  south  of  Mount  Brewer, 
where  we  had  parted  from  our  friends,  animated  us  with 
'courage  to  begin  the  descent,  which  we  did  with  utmost 
care,  for  the  rocks,  becoming  more  and  more  glacier- 
smoothed,  afforded  us  hardly  any  firm  footholds.  When 
down  about  eight  hundred  feet  we  again  rolled  rocks  ahead 
of  us,  and  saw  them  disappear  over  the  eaves,  and  only 
heard  the  sound  of  their  stroke  after  many  seconds,  which 
convinced  us  that  directly  below  lay  a  great  precipice. 

At  this  juncture  the  soles  came  entirely  off  Cotter's 
shoes,  and  we  stopped  upon  a  little  cliff  of  granite  to 
make  him  moccasins  of  our  provision  bags  and  slips  of 
blanket,  tying  them  on  as  firmly  as  we  could  with  the 
extra  straps  and  buckskin  thongs. 

Climbing  with  these  proved  so  insecure  that  I  made 
Cotter  go  behind  me,  knowing  that  under  ordinary  cir- 
cumstances I  could  stop  him  if  he  feU. 

Here  and  tl^ere  in  the  clefts  of  the  rocks  grew  stunted 
pine  bushes,  their  roots  twisted  so  firmly  into  the  crevices 


86  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

that  we  laid  hold  of  them  with  the  utmost  confidence 
whenever  they  came  within  our  reach.  In  this  way  we 
descended  to  within  fifty  feet  of,  the  brink,  having  as  yet 
no  knowledge  of  the  cliffs  below,  except  our  general 
memory  of  their  aspect  from  the  Mount  Brewer  wall. 

The  rock  was  so  steep  that  we  descended  in  a  sitting 
posture,  clinging  with  our  hands  and  heels. 

I  heard  Cotter  say,  "  I  think  I  must  take  off  these  moc- 
casins and  try  it  barefooted,  for  I  don't  believe  I  can  make 
it."  These  words  were  instantly  followed  by  a  startled 
cry,  and  I  looked  round  to  see  him  slide  quickly  toward 
me,  struggling  and  clutching  at  the  smooth  granite.  As 
he  slid  by  I  made  a  grab  for  him  with  my  right  hand, 
catching  him  by  the  shirt,  and,  throwing  myself  as  far  in 
the  other  direction  as  I  could,  seized  with  my  left  hand  a 
little  pine  tuft,  which  held  us.  I  asked  Cotter  to  edge 
along  a  little  to  the  left,  where  he  could  get  a  brace  with 
his  feet  and  relieve  me  of  his  weight,  which  he  cautiously 
did.  I  then  threw  a  couple  of  turns  with  the  lasso  round 
the  roots  of  the  pine  bush,  and  we  were  safe,  though 
hardly  more  than  twenty  feet  from  the  brink.  The  pres- 
sure of  curiosity  to  get  a  look  over  that  edge  was  so 
strong  within  me,  that  I  lengthened  out  sufficient  lasso 
to  reach  the  end,  and  slid  slowly  to  the  edge,  where,  lean- 
ing over,  I  looked  down,  getting  a  full  view  of  the  wall 
for  miles.  Directly  beneath,  a  sheer  cliff  of  three  or  four 
hundred  feet  stretched  down  to  a  pile  of  debris  which  rose 
to  unequal  heights  along  its  face,  reaching  the  very  crest 
not  more  than  a  hundred  feet  south  of  us.  From  that 
point  to  the  bottom  of  the  canon  broken  rocks,  ridges 
rising  through  vast  sweeps  of  debris,  tufts  of  pine  and 
frozen  bodies  of  ice,  covered  the  further  slope. 

I  returned  to  Cotter,  and,  having  loosened  ourselves 
from  the  pine  bush,  inch  by  inch  crept  along  the  granite 


THE  DESCENT   OF  MOUNT  TYNDALL.  87 

until  we  supposed  ourselves  to  be  just  over  the  top  of  the 
debris  pile,  where  I  found  a  firm  brace  for  my  feet,  and 
lowered  Cotter  to  the  edge.  He  sang  out  "  All  right ! "  and 
climbed  over  on  the  uppermost  debris,  his  head  only  re- 
maining in  sight  of  me  ;  when  I  lay  down  upon  my  back, 
making  knapsack  and  body  do  friction  duty,  and,  letting 
myself  move,  followed  Cotter  and  reached  his  side. 

From  that  point  the  descent  required  us  two  hours  of 
severe  constant  labor,  which  was  monotonous  of  itself, 
and  would  have  proved  excessively  tiresome  but  for  the 
constant  interest  of  glacial  geology  beneath  us.  When  at 
last  we  reached  bottom  and  found  ourselves  upon  a 
velvety  green  meadow,  beneath  the  shadow  of  wide-armed 
pines,  we  realized  the  amount  of  muscular  force  we  had 
used  up,  and  threw  ourselves  down  for  a  rest  of  half  an 
hour,  when  we  rose,  not  quite  renewed,  but  fresh  enough 
to  finish  the  day's  climb. 

In  a  few  minutes  we  stood  upon  the  rocks  just  above 
King's  Eiver,  —  a  broad  white  torrent  fretting  its  way 
along  the  bottom  of  an  impassable  gorge.  Looking  down 
the  stream,  we  saw  that  our  right  bank  was  a  continued 
precipice,  affording,  so  far  as  we  could  see,  no  possible  de- 
scent to  the  river's  margin,  and  indeed,  had  wx  gotten 
down,  the  torrent  rushed  with  such  fury  that  we  could 
not  possibly  have  crossed  it.  To  the  south  of  us,  a  little 
way  up  stream,  the  river  flowed  out  from  a  broad  oval 
lake,  three  quarters  of  a  mile  in  length,  which  occupied 
the  bottom  of  the  granite  basin.  Unable  to  cross  the  tor- 
rent, we  must  either  swim  the  lake  or  climb  round  its 
head.  Upon  our  side  the  walls  of  the  basin  curved  to 
the  head  of  the  lake  in  sharp  smooth  precipices,  or  broken 
slopes  of  debris;  while  on  the  opposite  side  its  margin 
was  a  beautiful  shore  of  emerald  meadow,  edged  with  a 
continuous  grove  of  coniferous  trees.     Once  upon  this 


88  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

other  side,  we  should  have  completed  the  severe  part  of 
our  journey,  crossed  the  gulf,  and  have  left  all  danger  be- 
hind us  ;  for  the  long  slope  of  granite  and  ice  which  rose 
upon  the  west  side-  of  the  canon  and  the  Mount  Brewer 
wall  opposed  to  us  no  trials  save  those  of  simple  fatigue. 

Around  the  head  of  the  lake  were  crags  and  precipices 
,  in  singularly  forbidding  arrangement.  As  we  turned 
thither  we  saw  no  possible  way  of  overcoming  them.  At 
its  head  the  lake  lay  in  an  angle  of  the  vertical  wall,  sharp 
and  straight  like  the  corner  of  a  room ;  about  three  hun- 
dred feet  in  height,  and  for  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  of 
this,  a  pyramidal  pile  of  blue  ice  rose  from  the  lake,  rest- 
ed against  the  corner,  and  reached  within  forty  feet  of 
the  top.  Looking  into  the  deep  blue  water  of  the  lake,  I 
concluded  that  in  our  exhausted  state  it  was  madness 
to  attempt  to  swim  it.  The  only  other  alternative  was  to 
scale  that  slender  pyramid  of  ice  and  find  some  way  to 
climb  the  forty  feet  of  smooth  Avail  above  it ;  a  plan  we 
chose  perforce,  and  started  at  once  to  put  into  execution, 
determined  that  if  we  were  unsuccessful  we  would  fire  a 
dead  log  which  lay  near,  warm  ourselves  thoroughly,  and 
attempt  the  swim.  At  its  base  the  ice  mass  overhung 
the  lake  like  a  roof,  under  which  the  water  had  melted 
its  way  for  a  distance  of  not  less  than  a  hundred  feet,  a 
thin  eave  overhanging  the  water.  To  the  very  edge  of 
this  I  cautiously  went,  and,  looking  down  into  the  lake, 
saw  though  its  beryl  depths  the  white  granite  blocks 
strewn  upon  the  bottom  at  least  one  hundred  feet  below 
me.  It  was  exceedingly  transparent,  and,  under  ordinary 
circumstances,  would  have  been  a  most  tempting  place  for 
a  dive ;  but  at  the  end  of  our  long  fatigue,  and  with  the 
still  unknown  tasks  ahead,  I  shrunk  from  a  swim  in  such 
a  chilly  temperature. 

We  found  the  ice-angle  difficultly  steep,  but  made  our 


THE  DESCENT   OF  MOUNT   TYNDALL.  89 

way  successfully  along  its  edge,  clambering  up  the  crev- 
ices melted  bet\yeen'  its  body  and  the  smooth  granite  to  a 
point  not  far  from  the  top,  where  the  ice  had  considerably 
narrowed,  and  rocks  overhanging  it  encroached  so  closely 
that  we  were  obliged  to  leave  the  edge  and  make  our  way 
with  cut  steps  out  upon  its  front.  Streams  of  water,  drop- 
ping from  the  overhanging  rock-eaves  at  many  points,  had 
worn  circular  shafts  into  the  ice,  three  feet  in  diameter 
and  twenty  feet  in  depth.  Their  edges  offered  us  our 
only  foothold,  and  we  climbed  from  one  to  another,  equally 
careful  of  slipping  upon  the  slope  itself,  or  falling  into  the 
wells.  Upon  the  top  of  the  ice  we  found  a  narrow,  level 
platform,  upon  which  we  stood  together,  resting  our  backs 
in  the  granite  corner,  and  looked  down  the  awful  pathway 
of  King's  Canon,  until  the  rest  nerved  us  up  enough  to 
turn  our  eyes  upward  at  the  forty  feet  of  smooth  granite 
which  lay  between  us  and  safety. 

Here. and  there  were  small  projections  from  its  surface, 
little  protruding  knobs  of  feldspar,  and  crevices  riven  into 
its  face  for  a  few  inches. 

As  we  tied  ourselves  together,  I  told  Cotter  to  hold 
himself  in  readiness  to  jump  down  into  one  of  these  in 
case  I  fell,  and  started  to  climb  up  the  wall,  succeeding 
quite  well  for  about  twenty  feet.  About  two  feet  above 
my  hands  was  a  crack,  which,  if  my  arms  had  been  long 
enough  to  reach,  would  probably  have  led  me  to  the  very 
top  ;  but  I  judged  it  beyond  my  powers,  and,  with  great 
care,  descended  to  the  side  of  Cotter,  who  believed  that 
his  superior  length  of  arm  would  enable  him  to  make  the 
reach. 

I  planted  myself  against  the  rock,  and  he  started  cau- 
tiously up  the  wall.  Looking  down  the  glare  front  of  ice, 
it  was  not  pleasant  to  consider  at  what  velocity  a  slip 
would  send  me  to  the  bottom,  or  at  what  angle,  and  to 


90  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

what  probable  depth,  I  should  be  projected  into  the  ice- 
water.  Indeed,  the  idea  of  such  a  sudden  bath  was  so 
annoying  that  I  lifted  my  eyes  toward  my  companion. 
He  reached  my  farthest  point  without  great  difficulty, 
and  made  a  bold  spring  for  the  crack,  reaching  it  without 
an  inch  to  spare,  and  holding  on  wholly  by  his  fingers. 
He  thus  worked  himseK  slowly  along  the  crack  toward 
the  top,  at  last  getting  his  arms  over  the  brink,  and  grad- 
ually drawing  his  body  up  and  out  of  sight.  It  was  the 
most  splendid  piece  of  slow  gymnastics  I  ever  witnessed. 
Tor  a  moment  he  said  nothmg ;  but  when  I  asked  if  he 
was  all  right  cheerfuUy  repeated,  "All  right."  It  was 
only  a  moment's  work  to  send  up  the  two  knapsacks  and 
barometer,  and  receive  again  my  end  of  the  lasso.  As 
I  tied  it  round  my  breast.  Cotter  said  to  me,  in  an  easy, 
confident  tone,  "  Don't  be  afraid  to  bear  your  weight."  I 
made  up  my  mind,  however,  to  make  that  climb  without 
his  aid,  and  husbanded  my  strength  as  I  climbed  from 
crack  to  crack.  I  got  up  without  difficulty  to  my  former 
point,  rested  there  a  moment,  hanging  solely  by  my  hands, 
gathered  every  pound  of  strength  and  atom  of  will  for  the 
reach,  then  jerked  myself  upward  with  a  swing,  just  get- 
ting the  tips  of  my  fingers  into  the  crack.  In  an  instant 
I  had  grasped  it  with  my  right  hand  also.  I  felt  the 
sinews  of  my  fingers  relax  a  little,  but  the  picture  of  the 
slope  of  ice  and  the  blue  lake  affected  me  so  strongly 
that  I  redoubled  my  grip,  and  climbed  slowly  along  the 
crack  until  I  reached  the  angle  and  got  one  arm  over 
the  edge  as  Cotter  had  done.  As  I  rested  my  body  upon 
the  edge  and  looked  up  at  Cotter,  I  saw  that,  instead  of  a 
level  top,  he  was  sitting  upon  a  smooth  roof-like  slope, 
where  the  least  pull  would  have  dragged  him  over  the 
brink.  He  had  no  brace  for  his  feet,  nor  hold  for  his 
hands,  but  had  seated  himself  calmly,  with  the  rope  tied 


THE  DESCENT   OF  MOUNT  TYNDALL.  91 

round  his  breast,  knowing  that  my  only  safety  lay  in 
being  able  to  make  the  climb  entirely  nnaided;  certain 
that  the  least  waver  in  his  tone  w^ould  have  disheartened 
me,  and  perhaps  made  it  impossible.  The  shock  I 
received  on  seeing  this  afiected  me  for  a  moment,  but 
not  enough  to  throw  me  off  my  guard,  and  I  climbed 
quickly  over  the  edge.  When  we  had  walked  back  out 
of  danger  we  sat  down  upon  the  granite  for  a  rest. 

In  all  my  experience  of  mountaineering  I  have  never 
known  an  act  of  such  real,  profound  courage  as  this  of 
Cotter's.  It  is  one  thing,  in  a  moment  of  excitement,  to 
make  a  gallant  leap,  or  hold  one's  nerves  in  the  iron  grasp 
of  will,  but  to  coolly  seat  one's  self  in  the  door  of  death,  and 
silently  listen  for  the  fatal  summons,  and  this  all  for  a 
friend,  —  for  he  might  easily  have  cast  loose  the  lasso 
and  saved  himself,  —  requires  as  sublime  a  type  of  cour- 
age as  I  know. 

But  a  few  steps  back  we  found  a  thicket  of  pine  over- 
looking our  lake,  by  which  there  flowed  a  clear  rill  of 
snow-water.  Here,  in  the  bottom  of  the  great  gulf,  we 
made  our  bivouac  ;  for  w^e  w^ere  already  in  the  deep 
evening  shadow^s,  although  the  mountain-tops  to  the  east 
of  us  still  burned  in  the  reflected  light.  It  was  the  lux- 
ury of  repose  which  kept  me  awake  half  an  hour  or  so, 
in  spite  of  my  vain  attempts  at  sleep.  To  listen  for  the 
pulsating  sound  of  w^aterfalls  and  arrowy  rushing  of  the 
brook  by  our  beds  was  too  deep  a  pleasure  to  quickly 
yield  up. 

Under  the  later  moonlight  I  rose  and  went  out  upon 
the  open  rocks,  allowing  myself  to  be  deeply  impressed 
by  the  weird  Dantesque  surroundings ;  —  darkness,  out 
of  which  to  the  sky  towered  stern,  shaggy  bodies  of  rock  ; 
snow,  uncertainly  moonlit  with  cold  pallor ;  and  at  my 
feet  the  basin  of  the  lake,  still,  black,  and  gemmed  with 


92  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

reflected  stars,  like  the  void  into  whicli  Dante  looked 
through  the  bottomless  gulf  of  Dis.  A  little  way  off 
there  appeared  upon  the  brink  of  a  projecting  granite 
cornice  two  dimly  seen  forms  ;  pines  I  knew  them  to  be, 
•yet  their  motionless  figures  seemed  bent  forward,  gazing 
down  the  canon;  and  I  allowed  myself  to  name  them 
Mantuan  and  Florentine,  thinking  at  the  same  time  how 
grand  and  spacious  the  scenery,  and  how  powerful  their 
attitude,  how  infinitely  more  profound  the  mystery  of 
light  and  shade,  than  any  of  those  hard,  theatrical  concep- 
tions with  which  Dore  has  sought  to  shut  in  our  imagina- 
tion. That  artist,  as  I  believe,  has  reached  a  conspicuous 
failure  from  an  overbalancing  love  of  solid,  impenetrable 
darkness.  There  is  in  all  his  Inferno  landscape  a  certain 
sharp  boundary  between  the  real  and  unreal,  and  never  the 
infinite  suggestiveness  of  great  regions  of  half-light,  in 
which  everything  may  be  seen,  nothing  recognized.  With- 
out waking  Cotter,  I  crept  back  to  my  blankets,  and  to  sleep. 
The  morning  of  our  fifth  and  last  day's  tramp  must 
have  dawned  cheerfully;  at  least,  so  I  suppose  from  its 
aspect  when  we  first  came  back  to  consciousness,  surprised 
to  find  the  sun  risen  from  the  eastern  mountain-wall  and 
the  whole  gorge  flooded  with  its  direct  light.  Rising  as 
good  as  new  from  our  mattress  of  pine  twigs,  we  hastened 
to  take  breakfast,  and  started  up  the  long,  broken  slope  of 
the  Mount  Brewer  wall.  To  reach  the  pass  where  we  had 
parted  from  our  friends  required  seven  hours  of  slow, 
laborious  climbing,  in  which  we  took  advantage  of  every 
outcropping  spine  of  granite  and  every  level  expanse  of 
ice  to  hasten  at  the  top  of  our  speed.  Cotter's  feet  were 
severely  cut ;  his  tracks  upon  the  snow  were  marked  by 
stains  of  blood,  yet  he  kept  on  with  undiminished  spirit, 
never  once  complaining.  The  perfect  success  of  our  jour- 
ney so  inspired  us  with  happiness  that  we  forgot  danger 
and  fatigue,  and  chatted  in  liveliest  strain. 


THE   DESCENT    OF   MOUNT   TYNDALL.  93 

It  was  about  two  o'clock  when  we  reached  the  summit 
and  rested  a  moment  to  look  back  over  our  new  Alps, 
which  were  hard  and  distinct  under  direct  unpoetic  light ; 
yet  with  all  their  dense  gray  and  white  reality,  their  long, 
sculptured  ranks,  and  cold,  still  summits,  Ave  gave  them  a 
lingering  farewell  look,  which  was  not  without  its  deep 
fulness  of  emotion,  then  turned  our  backs  and  hurried 
down  the  debris  slope  mto  the  rocky  amphitheatre  at  the 
foot  of  Mount  Brewer,  and  by  five  o'clock  had  reached 
our  old  camp-ground.  ^Ye  found  here  a  note  pinned  to  a 
tree  informing  us  that  the  party  had  gone  down  into  tlie 
lower  canon,  five  miles  below,  that  they  might  camp  in 
better  pasturage. 

The  wind  had  scattered  the  ashes  of  our  old  camp-fire, 
and  banished  from  it  the  last  sentiment  of  home.  We 
hurried  on,  climbing  among  the  rocks  which  reached  down 
to  the  crest  of  the  great  lateral  moraine,  and  then  on  in 
rapid  stride  along  its  smooth  crest,  riveting  our  eyes  upon 
the  valley  below,  where  we  knew  the  party  must  be  camped. 

At  last,  faintly  curling  above  the  sea  of  green  tree-tops, 
a  few  faint  clouds  of  smoke  wafted  upward  into  the  air. 
We  saw  them  with  a  burst  of  strong  emotion,  and  ran 
down  the  steep  flank  of  the  moraine  at  the  top  of  our 
speed.  Our  shouts  were  instantly  answered  by  the  three 
voices  of  our  friends,  who  welcomed  us  to  their  camp-fire 
with  tremendous  hugs. 

After  we  had  outlined  for  them  the  experience  of  our 
days,  and  as  we  lay  outstretched  at  our  ease,  warm  in  the 
blaze  of  the  glorious  camp-fire.  Brewer  said  to  me,  "  King, 
you  have  relieved  me  of  a  dreadful  task.  For  the  last 
three  days  I  have  been  composing  a  letter  to  your  family, 
but  somehow  I  did  not  get  beyond  'It  becomes  my  pain- 
ful duty  to  inform  you.'  " 


94  MOUNTAINEEEING  IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 


V. 
THE  NEWTYS   OF  PIKE. 

Our  return  from  Mount  Tyndall  to  sucli  civilization  as 
flourishes  around  the  Kaweah  outposts  was  signalized  by 
us  chiefly  as  to  our  cuisine,  which  offered  now  such  boun- 
ties as  the  potato,  and  once  a  salad,  in  which  some  middle- 
aged  lettuce  became  the  vehicle  for  a  hollow  mockery  of 
dressing.  Two  or  three  days,  during  which  we  dined  at 
brief  intervals,  served  to  completely  rest  us,  and  put  in 
excellent  trim  for  further  campaigning  all  except  Profes- 
sor Brewer,  upon  whom  a  constant  toothache  wore  pain- 
fully, —  my  bullet-mould  failing  even  upon  the  third  trial 
to  extract  the  unruly  member. 

It  was  determined  we  should  ride  together  to  Visalia, 
seventy  miles  away,  and,  the  more  we  went,  the  im- 
patienter  became  my  friend,  till  we  agreed  to  push  ahead 
through  day  and  night,  and  reached  the  village  at  about 
sunrise  in  a  state  of  reeling  sleepiness  quite  indescribably 
funny. 

At  evening,  when  it  became  time  to  start  back  for  our 
mountain  camp,  my  friend  at  last  yielded  consent  to  my 
project  of  climbing  the  Kern  Sierras  to  attempt  Mount 
Whitney ;  so  I  parted  from  him,  and,  remaining  at  Visalia, 
outfitted  myself  with  a  pack-horse,  two  mounted  men, 
and  provisions  enough  for  a  two  weeks'  trip. 

I  purposely  avoid  telling  by  what  route  I  entered  the 
Sierras,  because  there  lingers  in  my  breast  a  desire  to  see 
once  more  that  lovely  region,  and  failing,  as  I  do,  to  con- 


THE  NEWTYS   OF  PIKE.  95 

fide  in  the  people,  I  fear  lest,  if  the  camp  I  am  going  to 
describe  should  be  recognized,  I  might,  npon  revisiting 
the  scene,  suffer  harm,  or  even  come  to  an  untimely  end. 
I  refrain,  then,  from  telling  by  what  road  I  found  myself 
entering  the  region  of  the  pines  one  lovely  twilight 
evening,  two  days  after  leaving  Visalia.  Pines,  growing 
closer  and  closer,  from  sentinels  gathered  to  groups,  then 
stately  groves,  and  at  last,  as  the  evening  wore  on,  as- 
sembled in  regular  forest,  through  whose  open  tops  the 
stars  shone  cheerfully. 

I  came  upon  an  open  meadow,  hearing  in  front  the 
rush  of  a  large  brook,  and  directly  reached  two  camp- 
fires,  where  were  a  number  of  persons.  My  two  hirelings 
caught  and  unloaded  the  pack-horse,  and  set  about  their 
duties,  looking  to  supper  and  the  animals,  while  I  pros- 
pected the  two  camps.  That  just  below  me,  on  the 
same  side  of  the  brook,  I  found  to  be  the  bivouac  of  a 
company  of  hunters,  who,  in  the  ten  minutes  of  my  call, 
made  free  with  me,  hospitably  offering  a  jug  of  whiskey, 
and  then  went  on  in  their  old  eternal  way  of  making 
bear-stories  out  of  whole  cloth. 

I  left  them  with  a  belief  that  my  protoplasm  and  theirs 
must  be  different,  in  spite  of  Mr.  Huxley,  and  passed  across 
the  brook  to  the  other  camp.  Under  noble  groups  of 
pines  smouldered  a  generous  heap  of  coals,  the  ruins  of 
a  mighty  log.  A  little  way  from  this  lay  a  confused  pile 
of  bedclothes,  partly  old  and  half-bald  buffalo-robes,  but, 
in  the  main,  thick  strata  of  what  is  known  to  irony  as 
comforters,  upon  which,  outstretched  in  wretched  awk- 
wardness' of  position,  was  a  family,  all  with  their  feet  to 
the  fire,  looking  as  if  they  had  been  blown  over  in  one 
direction,  or  knocked  down  by  a  single  bombshell.  On 
the  extremities  of  this  common  bed,  with  the  air  of  hav- 
ing gotten  as  far  from  each  other  as  possible,  the  mother 


96  MOUNTAINEERING  IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA.      • 

and  father  of  the  Pike  family  reclined ;  between  them  were 
two  small  children  —  a  girl  and  boy  —  and  a  huge  girl, 
who,  next  the  old  man,  lay  flat  upon  her  back,  her  mind 
absorbed  in  the  simple  amusement  of  waving  one  foot  (a 
cowhide  eleven)  slowly  across  the  fire,  squinting,  with 
half-shut  eye,  first  at  the  vast  shoe  and  thence  at  the  fire, 
alternately  hiding  bright  places  and  darting  the  foot 
quickly  in  the  direction  of  any  new  display  of  heighten- 
ing flame.  The  mother  was  a  bony  sister,  in  the  yellow, 
shrunken,  of  sharp  visage,  in  which  were  prominent  two 
cold  eyes  and  a  positively  poisonous  mouth ;  her  hair,  the 
color  of  faded  hay,  tangled  in  a  jungle  around  her  head. 
She  rocked  jerkily  to  and  fro,  removing  at  intervals  a 
clay  pipe  from  her  mouth  in  order  to  pucker  her  thin  lips 
up  to  one  side,  and  spit  with  precision  upon  a  certain  spot 
in  the  fire,  which  she  seemed  resolved  to  prevent  from 
attaining  beyond  a  certain  faint  glow. 

I  have  rarely  felt  more  in  difficulty  for  an  overture 
to  conversation,  and  was  long  before  venturing  to  pro- 
pose, "  You  seem  to  have  a  pleasant  camp-spot  here." 
The  old  woman  sharply,  and  in  almost  a  tone  of  affront, 
answered,  "  They  's  wus,  and  then  again  they  's  better." 

"Doos  well  for  our  hogs,"  inserted  the  old  man. 
"  We  've  a  band  of  pork  that  make  out  to  find  feed." 

"  Oh !  how  many  have  you  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Nigh  three  thousand." 

"  Won't  you  set  ? "  asked  Madame ;  then,  turning, 
"You,  Susan,  can't  you  try  for  to  set  up,  and  not 
spread  so  ?     Hain't  you  no  manners,  say  ? " 

At  this  the  massive  girl  got  herself  somewhat  together, 
and  made  room  for  me,  which  I  declined,  however. 

"  Prospecting  ? "  inquired  Madame. 

"  I  say  huntin',"  suggested  the  man. 

"  Maybe  he  's  a  cattle-feller,"  interrupted  the  little  girl. 


THE   NEWTYS   OF   PIKE.  97 

"  Goin'  somewhere,  ain't  yer  ? "  was  Susan's  guess. 

I  gave  brief  account  of  myself,  evidently  satisfying  the 
social  requirements  of  all  but  the  old  woman,  who  at  once 
classified  me  as  not  up  to  her  standard.  Susan  saw  this, 
so  did  her  father,  and  it  became  evident  to  me  in  ten 
minutes'  conversation  that  they  two  were  always  at  one, 
and  made  it  their  business  to  be  in  antagonism  to  the 
mother.  They  were  then  allies  of  mine  from  nature,  and 
I  felt  at  once  at  home.  I  saw  too  that  Susan,  having 
slid  back  to  her  horizontal  position  when  I  declined  to 
share  her  rightful  ground,  was  watching  with  subtle  so- 
licitude that  fated  spot  in  the  fire,  opposing  sympathy 
and  squints  accurately  aligned  by  her  shoe  to  the  dull 
spot  in  the  embers,  which  slowly  went  out  into  blackness 
before  the  well-directed  fire  of  her  mother's  saliva. 

The  shouts  which  I  heard  proceeding  from  the  direc- 
tion of  my  camp  were  easily  translatable  into  summons 
for  supper.  Mr.  Newty  invited  me  to  return  later  and 
be  sociable,  which  I  promised  to  do,  and,  going  to  my 
camp,  supped  quickly  and  left  the  men  with  orders  about 
picketing  the  animals  for  the  night,  then,  strolling  slowly 
down  to  the  camp  of  my  friends,  seated  myself  upon  a 
log  by  the  side  of  the  old  gentleman.  Feeling  that  this 
somewhat  formal  attitude  unfitted  me  for  partaking  to 
the  fullest  degree  the  social  ease  around  me,  and  know- 
ing that  my  buckskin  trousers  were  impervious  to  dirt, 
I  slid  down  in  a  reclined  posture  with  my  feet  to  the  fire, 
in  absolute  parallelism  with  the  rest  of  the  family. 

The  old  woman  was  in  the  exciting  denouement  of  a 
coon-story,  directed  to  her  little  boy,  who  sat  clinging  to 
her  skirt  and  looking  in  her  face  with  absorbed  curiosity. 
"  And  when  Johnnie  fired,"  she  said,  "  the  coon  fell  and 
busted  open."  The  little  boy  had  misplaced  his  sym- 
pathies with    the  raccoon,  and   having   inquired   plain- 

5  G 


98  MOUNTAINEERING  IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

tively,  "  Did  it  liurt  him  ? "  was  promptly  snubbed  with 
the  reply,  "  Of  course  it  hurt  him.  What  do  you  sup- 
pose coons  is  made  for  ?  "  Then  turning  to  me  she  put 
what  was  plainly  enough  with  her  a  test-question:  "I 
allow  you  have  killed  your  coon  in  your  day  ? "  I  saw  at 
once  that  I  must  forever  sink  beneath  the  horizon  of  her 
standards,  but,  failing  in  real  experience  or  accurate 
knowledge  concerning  the  coon,  knew  no  subterfuges 
would  work  with  her.  Instinct  had  taught  her  that  I 
had  never  killed  a  coon,  and  she  had  asked  me  thus  os- 
tentatiously to  place  me  at  once  and  forever  before  the 
family  in  my  true  light.  "  No,  ma'am,"  I  said ;  "  now  you 
speak  of  it,  I  realize  that  I  never  have  killed  a  coon." 
This  was  something  of  a  staggerer  to  Susan  and  her 
father,  yet  as  the  mother's  pleasurable  dissatisfaction  with 
me  displayed  itseK  by  more  and  more  accurate  salivary 
shots  at  the  fire,  they  rose  to  the  occasion,  and  began  to 
palliate  my  past.  "  Maybe,"  ventured  Mr.  Newty,  "  that 
they  don't  have  coon  round  the  city  of  York  "  ;  and  I  felt 
that  I  needed  no  self-defence  when  Susan  firmly  and 
defiantly  suggested  to  her  mother  that  perhaps  I  was  in 
better  business. 

Driven  in  upon  herself  for  some  time,  the  old  woman 
smoked  in  silence,  until  Susan,  seeing  that  her  mother 
gTadually  quenched  a  larger  and  larger  circle  upon  the 
fire,  got  up  and  stretched  herself,  and  giving  the  coals  a 
vigorous  poke  swept  out  of  sight  the  quenched  spot,  thus 
readily  obliterating  the  result  of  her  mother's  precise  and 
prolonged  expectoration ;  then  flinging  -a  few  dry  boughs 
upon  the  fire  illumined  the  family  with  the  ruddy  blaze, 
and  sat  down  again,  leaning  upon  her  father's  knee  with 
a  faint  light  of  triumph  in  her  eye. 

I  ventured  a  few  platitudes  concerning  pigs,  not  pen- 
etrating the  depths  of  that  branch  of  rural  science  enough 


THE  NEWTYS   OF   PIKE.  99 

to  betray  my  ignorance.  Such  sentiments  as  "  A  little 
piece  of  bacon  well  broiled  for  breakfast  is  very  good," 
and  "Nothing  better  than  cold  ham  for  lunch/'  were 
received  by  Susan  and  her  father  in  the  spirit  I  meant,  — 
of  entire  good- will  toward  pork  generically.  I  now  look 
back  in  amusement  at  having  fallen  into  this  weakness, 
for  the  Mosaic  view  of  pork  has  been  mine  from  infancy, 
and  campaigning  upon  government  rations  has,  in  truth, 
no  tendency  to  dim  this  ancient  faith. 

By  half  past  nine  the  gates  of  conversation  were  fairly 
open,  and  our  ]Dart  of  the  circle  enjoyed  itself  socially,  — 
taciturnity  and  clouds  of  Virginia  plug  reigning  supreme 
upon  the  other.  The  two  little  children  crept  under  com- 
forters somewhere  near  the  middle  of  the  bed,  and  sub- 
sided pleasantly  to  sleep.  The  old  man  at  last  stretched 
sleepily,  finally  yawning  out,  "  Susan,  I  do  believe  I  am 
too  tired  out  to  go  and  see  if  them  corral  bars  are  down. 
I  guess  you  '11  have  to  go.  I  reckon  there  ain't  no  bears 
round  to-night."  Susan  rose  to  her  feet,  stretched  her- 
self with  her  back  to  the  fire,  and  I  realized  for  the  first 
time  her  amusing  proportions.  In  the  region  of  six  feet, 
tall,  square-shouldered,  of  firm  iron  back  and  heavy 
mould  of  limb,  she  yet  possessed  that  suppleness  which 
enabled  her  as  she  rose  to  throw  herself  into  nearly  all  the 
attitudes  of  the  Niobe  children.  As  her  yawn  deepened, 
she  waved  nearly  down  to  the  ground,  and  then,  rising 
upon  tiptoe,  stretched  up  her  clinched  fists  to  heaven 
with  a  groan  of  pleasure.  Turning  to  me,  she  asked, 
"  How  would  you  like  to  see  the  hogs  ?  "  The  old  man 
added,  as  an  extra  encouragement,  "  Pootiest  band  of  hogs 
in  Tulare  County !  There  's  littler  of  the  real  sissor-bill 
nor  Mexican  racer  stock  than  any  band  I  have  ever  seen 
in  the  State.  I  driv  the  original  outfit  from  Pike  County 
to  Oregon  in  '51  and  '52."     By  this  time  I  was  actually 


100  MOUNTAINEERING  IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

interested  iu  them,  and  joining  Susan  we  passed  out  into 
the  forest. 

The  full  moon,  now  high  in  the  heavens,  looked  down 
over  the  whole  landscape  of  clustered  forest  and  open 
meadow  with  tranquil  silvery  light.  It  whitened  meas- 
urably the  fine  spiry  tips  of  the  trees,  fell  luminous  upon 
broad  bosses  of  granite  which  here  and  there  rose  through 
the  soil,  and  glanced  in  trembling  reflections  from  the 
rushing  surface  of  the  brook.  Far  in  the  distance  moon- 
lit peaks  towered  in  solemn  rank  against  the  sky. 

We  walked  silently  on  four  or  five  minutes  through 
the  woods,  coming  at  last  upon  a  fence  which,  margined 
a  wide  circular  opening  in  the  wood.  The  bars,  as  her 
father  had  feared,  were  down.  We  stepped  over  them, 
quietly  entered  the  enclosure,  put  them  up  behind  us, 
and  proceeded  to  the  middle,  threading  our  way  among 
sleeping  swine  to  where  a  lonely  tree  rose  to  the  height 
of  about  two  hundred  feet.  Against  this  we  placed  our 
backs,  and  Susan  waved  her  hand  in  pride  over  the  two 
acres  of  tranquil  pork.  The  eye,  after  accustoming  itself 
to  the  darkness,  took  cognizance  of  a  certain  ridgyness  of 
surface-  which .  came  to  be  recognized  as  the  objects  of 
Susan's  pride. 

Quite  a  pretty  effect  was  caused  by  the  shadow  of  the 
forest,  which,  cast  obliquely  downward  by  the  moon, 
divided  the  corral  into  halves  of  light  and  shade. 

The  air  was  filled  with  heavy  breathing,  interrupted  by 
here  and  there  a  snore,  and  at  times  by  crescendos  of 
tumult,  caused  by  forty  or  fifty  pigs  doing  battle  for  some 
favorite  bed-place. 

I  was  informed  that  Susan  did  not  wish  me  to  judge 
of  them  by  dark,  but  to  see  them  again  in  the  full  light 
of  day.  She  knew  each  individual  pig  by  its  physi- 
ognomy, having,  as  she  said,  "  growed  with  'em." 


THE  NEWTYS   OF  PIKE.  101 

As  we  strolled  back  toward  the  bars  a  dusky  form  dis- 
puted our  way,  —  two  small,  sliarp  eyes  and  a  wild  crest 
of  bristles  were  visible  in  the  obscure  light.  "  That 's  Old 
Arkansas,"  said  Susan ;  "  he 's  eight  year  old  come  next 
June,  and  I  never  could  get  him  to  like  me."  I  felt  for 
my  pistol,  but  Susan  struck  a  vigorous  attitude,  ejaculat- 
ing, "  S-S-oway,  Arkansas  ! "  She  made  a  dash  in  his  di- 
rection ;  a  wild  scuffle  ensued,  in  which  I  heard  the  dull 
thud  of  Susan's  shoe,  accompanied  by,  "  Take  that,  dog- 
on-you  !  "  a  cloud  of  dust,  one  shrill  squeal,  and  Arkansas 
retreated  into  the  darkness  at  a  business-like  trot. 

When  quite  near  the  bars  the  mighty  girl  launched 
herself  into  the  air,  alighting  with  her  stomach  across 
the  topmost  rail,  where  she  hung  a  brief  moment,  made  a 
violent  muscular  contraction,  and  alighted  upon  the  ground 
outside,  communicating  to  it  a  tremor  quite  perceptible 
from  where  I  stood.  I  climbed  over  after  her,  and  we 
sauntered  under  the  trees  back  to  camp. 

The  family  had  disappeared,  a  few  dry  boughs,  how- 
ever, thrown  upon  the  coals,  blazed  up,  and  revealed  their 
forms  in  the  corrugated  topography  of  the  bed. 

I  bade  Susan  good  night,  and  before  I  could  turn  my 
back  she  kicked  her  number-eleven  shoes  into  the  air, 
and  with  masterly  rapidity  turned  in,  as  Minerva  is  said 
to  have  done,  in  full  panoply. 

I  fled  precipitately  to  my  camp,  and  sought  my  blankets, 
lying  awake  in  a  kind  of  half-revery,  in  which  Susan  and 
Arkansas,  the  old  woman  and  her  coons,  were  the  prom- 
inent figures.  Later  I  fell  asleep,  and  lay  motionless 
until  the  distant  roar  of  swine  awoke  me  before  sunrise 
next  morning. 

Seated  upon  my  blankets,  I  beheld  Susan's  mother  drag 
forth  the  two  children,  one  after  another,  by  the  napes 
of  their  necks,  and,  shaking  the  sleep  out  of  them,  propel 


102  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

them  spitefully  toward  the  brook ;  then  taking  her  pipe 
from  her  mouth  she  bent  low  over  the  sleeping  form  of 
her  huge  daughter,  and  in  a  high,  shrill,  nasal  key, 
screeched  in  her  ear,  "  Yew  Suse  ! " 

No  sign  of  life  on  the  part  of  the  daughter. 

"  Susan,  are  you  a-going  to  get  up  ?  " 

Slight  muscular  contraction  of  the  lower  limbs. 

"  Will  you  hear  me,  Susan  ?  " 

"  Marm,"  whispered  the  girl,  in  low,  sleepy  tones. 

"  Get  up  and  let  the  Jiogs  out  1 " 

The  idea  had  at  length  thrilled  into  Susan's  brain,  and 
with  a  violent  suddenness  she  sat  bolt  upright,  brushing 
her  green-colored  hair  out  of  her  eyes,  and  rubbing  those 
valuable  but  bleared  organs  with  the  ponderous  knuckles 
of  her  forefingers. 

By  this  time  I  started  for  the  brook  for  my  morning 
toilet,  and  the  girl  and  I  met  upon  opposite  banks, 
stooping  to  wash  our  faces  in  the  same  pool.  As  I 
opened  my  dressing-case  her  lower  jaw  fell,  revealing  a 
row  of  ivory  teeth  rounded  out  by  two  well-developed 
"  wisdoms,"  which  had  all  that  dazzling  grin  (5ne  sees  in 
the  show-windows  of  certain  dental  practitioners.  It 
required  but  a  moment  to  gather  up  a  quart  or  so  of 
water  in  her  broad  palms,  and  rub  it  vigorously  into  a 
small  circle  upon  the  middle  of  her  face,  the  moisture 
working  outward  to  a  certain  high-water  mark,  which, 
along  her  chin  and  cheeks,  defined  the  limits  of  former 
ablution  ;  then,  baring  her  large  red  arms  to  tlie  elbow,  she 
washed  her  hands,  and  stood  resting  them  upon  her  hips, 
dripping  freely,  and  watching  me  with  intense  curiosity. 

AVlien  I  reached  the  towel  process,  she  herself  twisted 
her  body  after  the  manner  of  the  Belvidere  torso,  bent  low 
her  head,  gathered  up  the  back  breadths  of  her  petticoat, 
and  wiped  her  face  vigorously,  upon  it,  which  had  the 


THE   NEWTYS    OF   PIKE.  103 

effect  of  tracing  concentric  streaks  irregularly  over  her 
countenance. 

I  parted  my  hair  by  the  aid  of  a  small  dressing-glass, 
which  so  fired  Susan  that  she  crossed  the  stream  with  a 
mighty  jump,  and  stood  in  ecstasy  by  my  side.  She  bor- 
rowed the  glass,  and  then  my  comb,  rewashed  her  face, 
and  fell  to  work  diligently  upon  her  hair. 

All  this  did  not  so  limit  my  perception  as  to  prevent  my 
watching  the  general  demeanor  of  the  family.  The  old 
man  lay  back  at  his  ease,  puffing  a  cloud  of  ^moke ;  his 
wife,  also  emitting  volumes  of  the  vapor  of  "  navy  plug," 
squatted  by  the  camp-fire,  frying  certain  lumps  of  pork, 
and  communicating  an  occasional  spiral  jerk  to  the 
coffee-pot,  with  the  purpose,  apparently,  of  stirring  the 
grounds.  The  two  children  had  gotten  upon  the  back  of 
a  contemplative  ass,  who  stood  by  the  upper  side  of  the 
bed  quietly  munching  the  corner  of  a  comforter. 

My  friend  was  in  no  haste.  She  squandered  much 
time  upon  the  arrangement  of  her  towy  hair,  and  there 
was  something  like  a  blush  of  conscious  satisfaction  when 
she  handed  me  back  my  looking-glass  and  remarked 
ironically,  "  0  no,  I  guess  not,  —  no,  sir." 

I  begged  her  to  accept  the  comb  and  glass,  which  she 
did  with  maidenly  joy. 

This  unusual  toilet  had  stimulated  with  self-respect 
Susan's  every  fibre,  and  as  she  sprung  back  across  the 
brook  and  approached  her  mother's  camp-fire,  I  could  not 
fail  to  admire  the  magnificent  turn  of  her  shoulders  and 
the  powerful,  queenly  poise  of  her  head.  Her  full,  grand 
form  and  hea\y  strength  reminded  me  of  the  statues  of 
Ceres,  yet  there  was  withal  a  very  unpleasant  suggestion 
of  fighting  trim,  a  sort  of  prize-ring  manner  of  swinging 
tlie  arms,  and  hitching  of  the  shoulders.  She  suddenly 
spied  the  children  upon  the  jackass,  and  with  one  wide 


104  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

sweep  of  her  right  arm  projected  them  over  the  creature's 
head,  and  planted  her  left  eleven  firmly  in  the  ribs  of 
the  donkey,  who  beat  a  precipitate  retreat  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  hog-pens,  leaving  her  executing  a  pas  seul,  —  a 
kind  of  slow,  stately  jig,  something  between  the  minuet 
and  the  jiiha,  accompanying  herself  by  a  low-hummed  air 
and  a  vigorous  beating  of  time  upon  her  slightly  lifted 
knee. 

It  required  my  Pike  County  friends  but  ten  minutes  to 
swallow  their  pork  and  begin  the  labors  of  the  day. 

The  mountaineers'  camp  was  not  yet  astir.  These  chil- 
dren of  the  forest  were  well  chained  in  slumber  ;  for,  un- 
less there  is  some  special  programme  for  the  day,  it  re- 
quires the  leverage  of  a  high  sun  to  arouse  their  facul- 
ties, dormant  enough  by  nature,  and  soothed  into  deepest 
quiet  by  whiskey.  About  eight  o'clock  they  breakfasted, 
and  by  nine  had  engaged  my  innocent  camp-men  in  a 
game  of  social  poker. 

I  visited  my  horses,  and  had  them  picketed  in  the  best 
possible  feed,  and  congratulated  myself  that  they  were 
recruiting  finely  for  the  difficult  ride  before  me. 

Susan,  after  a  second  appeal  from  her  mother,  ran  over 
to  the  corral  and  let  out  the  family  capital,  who  streamed 
with  exultant  grunt  through  the  forest,  darkening  the 
fair  green  meadow  gardens,  and  happily  passing  out  of 
sight. 

When  I  had  breakfasted  I  joined  Mr.  ISTewty  in  his 
trip  to  the  corral,  where  w^e  stood  together  for  hours,  dur- 
ing which  I  had  mastered  the  story  of  his  years  since,  in 
1850,  he  left  his  old  home  in  Pike  of  Missouri. 

It  was  one  of  those  histories  common  enough  through 
this  wide  West,  yet  never  failing  to  startle  me  with  its 
horrible  lesson  of  social  disintegration,  of  human  retro- 
grade. 


THE  NEWTYS   OF   PIKE.  105 

That  brave  spirit  of  Westward  Ho  !  wliich  has  been  the 
pillar  of  fire  and  cloud  leading  on  the  weary  march  of 
progress  over  stretches  of  desert,  lining  the  way  with 
graves  of  strong  men ;  of  new-born  lives ;  of  sad,  patient 
mothers,  whose  pathetic  longing  for  the  new  home  died 
with  them ;  of  the  thousand  old  and  young  whose  last 
agony  came  to  them  as  they  marched  with  eyes  strained 
on  after  the  sunken  sun,  and  whose  shallow  barrows 
scarcely  lift  over  the  drifting  dust  of  the  desert ;  that  rest- 
less spirit  which  has  dared  to  uproot  the  old  and  plant 
the  new,  kindling  the  grand  energy  of  California,  laying 
foundations  for  a  State  to  be,  that  is  admirable,  is  poetic, 
is  to  fill  an  immortal  page  in  the  story  of  America ;  but 
when,  instead  of  urging  on  to  wresting  from  new  lands 
something  better  than  old  can  give,  it  degenerates  into 
mere  weak-minded  restlessness,  killing  the  power  of 
growth,  the  ideal  of  home,  the  faculty  of  repose,  it  results 
in  that  race  of  perpetual  emigrants  who  roam  as  dreary 
waifs  over  the  West,  losing  possessions,  love  of  life,  love 
of  God,  slowly  dragging  from  valley  to  valley  till  they  fall 
by  the  wayside,  happy  if  some  chance  stranger  performs 
for  them  the  last  rites,  —  often  less  fortunate,  as  blanched 
bones  and  fluttering  rags  upon  too  many  hillsides  plainly 
tell. 

The  Newtys  were  of  this  dreary  brotherhood.  In  1850, 
with  a  small  family  of  that  authentic  strain  of  high-bred 
swine  for  which  Pike  County  is  widely  known,  as  jNIr.  New- 
ty  avers,  they  bade  Missouri  and  their  snug  farm  good  by, 
and,-  having  packed  their  household  goods  into  a  wagon 
drawn  by  two  spotted  oxen,  set  out  with  the  baby  Susan 
for  Oregon,  where  they  came  after  a  year's  march,  tired, 
and  cursed  with  a  permanent  discontent.  There  they 
had  taken  up  a  rancho,  a  quarter-section  of  public  domain, 
which  at  the  end  of  two  years  was  "improved"  to  the 

5* 


106  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

extent  of  the  "neatest  little  worm  fence  this  side  of 
Pike/'  a  barn,  and  a  smoke-house.  "  In  another  year," 
said  my  friend, "  I  'd  have  dug  for  a  house,  but  we  tuck 
ager  and  the  second  baby  died."  One  day  there  came  a 
man  who  "  let  on  that  he  knowd  "  land  in  California  much 
fairer  and  more  worthy  tillage  than  Oregon's  best,  so  the 
poor  Newtys  harnessed  up  the  wagon  and  turned  their 
backs  upon  a  home  nearly  ready  for  comfortable  life,  and 
swept  south  with  pigs  and  plunder.  Through  all  the 
years  this  story  had  repeated  itself,  new  homes  gotten  to 
the  edge  of  completion,  more  babies  born,  more  graves 
made,  more  pigs,  who  replenished  as  only  the  Pike 
County  variety  may,  till  it  seemed  to  me  the  mere  mul- 
tiplication of  them  must  reach  a  sufficient  dead  weight  to 
anchor  the  family ;  but  this  was  dispelled  when  Newty 
remarked :  "  These  yer  hogs  is  awkward  aboiit  moving, 
and  I  've  pretty  much  made  my  mind  to  put  'em  all 
into  bacon  this  fall,  and  sell  out  and  start  for  Montana." 

Poor  fellow !  at  Montana  he  will  probably  find  a  man 
from  Texas  wlio  in  half  an  hour  will  persuade  him  that 
happiness  lies  there. 

As  we  walked  back  to  their  camp,  and  when  Dame 
Newty  hove  in  sight,  my  friend  ventured  to  say,  "  Don't 
you  mind  the  old  woman  and  her  coons.  She  's  from 
Arkansas.  She  used  to  say  no  man  could  have  Susan 
who  could  n't  show  coonskins  enough  of  his  own  killing 
to  make  a  bedquilt,  but  she  's  over  that  mostly."  In 
spite  of  this  assurance  my  heart  fell  a  trifle  when,  the 
first  moment  of  our  return,  she  turned  to  her  husband 
and  asked,  "  Do  you  mind  what  a  dead-open-and-shut 
on  coons  our  little  Johnny  was  when  he  was  ten  years 
old  ?  "  I  secretly  wondered  if  the  dead-open-and-shut 
had  anything  to  do  with  his  untimely  demise  at  eleven, 
but  kept  silence. 


THE   NEWTYS   OF   PIKE.  107 

Eegarding  her  as  a  sad  product  of  the  disease  of  chronic 
emigration,  her  hard  thin  nature,  all  angles  and  stings, 
became  to  me  one  of  the  most  depressing  and  pathetic 
spectacles,  and  the  more  when  her  fever-and-ague  boy,  a 
mass  of  bilious  lymph,  came  and  sat  by  her,  looking  up 
with  great  haggard  eyes  as  if  pleading  for  something,  he 
Imew  not  what,  but  which  I  plainly  saw  only  death  could 
bestow. 

Noon  brought  the  hour  of  my  departure.  Susan  and 
her  father  talked  apart  a  moment,  then  the  old  man  said 
the  two  would  ride  along  with  me  for  a  few  miles,  as 
he  had  to  go  in  that  direction  to  look  for  new  hog-feed. 

I  despatched  my  two  men  with  the  pack-horse,  direct- 
ing them  to  follow  the  trail,  then  saddled  my  Kaweah 
and  waited  for  the  Newtys.  The  old  man  saddled  a 
shaggy  little  mountain  pony  for  himself,  and  for  Susan 
strapped  a  sheepskin  upon  the  back  of  a  young  and  fiery 
mustang  colt. 

While  they  were  getting  ready,  I  made  my  horse  fast 
to  a  stake  and  stepped  over  to  bid  good  by  to  Mrs.  Newty. 
I  said  to  her,  in  tones  of  deference,  "  I  have  come  to  bid 
you  good  by,  madam,  and  when  I  get  back  this  way  I 
hope  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  tell  me  one  or  two 
really  first-rate  coon-stories.  I  am  quite  ignorant  of  that 
animal,  having  been  raised  in  countries  where  they  are 
extremely  rare,  and  I  would  like  to  know  more  of  what 
seems  to 'be  to  you  a  creature  of  such  interest."  The  wet, 
gray  eyes  relaxed,  as  I  fancied,  a  trifle  of  their  asperity ; 
a  faint  kindle  seemed  to  light  them  for  an  instant  as  she 
asked,  "  You  never  see  coons  catch  frogs  in  a  spring 
branch  ?  " 

"  No,  Madame,"  I  answered. 

"  Well,  I  wonder !  Well,  take  care  of  yourself,  and 
when  you  come  back  this  way  stop  along  with  us,  and 


108  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

we  '11  kill  a  yearlin'  and  I  '11  tell  you  about  a  coon  that 
used  to  live  under  grandfather's  barn."  She  actually  of- 
fered me  her  hand,  which  I  grasped  and  shook  in  a 
friendly  manner,  chilled  to  the  very  bone  with  its  damp 
coldness. 

Mr.  JSTewty  mounted,  and  asked  me  if  I  was  ready. 
Susan  stood  holding  her  prancing  mustang.  To  put  that 
girl  on  her  horse  after  the  ordinary  plan  would  have  re- 
quired the  strength  of  Samson,  or  the  use  of  a  step-ladder, 
neither  of  which  I  possessed ;  so  I  waited  for  events  to  de- 
velop themselves.  The  girl  stepped  to  the  left  side  of 
her  horse,  twisted  one  hand  in  the  mane,  laying  the  other 
upon  his  haunches,  and,  crouching  for  a  jump,  sailed 
through  the  air,  alighting  upon  the  sheepskin.  The  horse 
reared,  and  Susan,  twisting  herself  around,  came  right 
side  up  with  her  knee  upon  the  sheepskin,  shouting,  as 
she  did  so,  "  I  guess  you  don't  get  me  off,  sir ! "  I 
jumped  upon  Kaweah,  and  our  two  horses  sj)rang  forward 
together,  Susan  waving  her  hand  to  her  father,  and  crying, 
"  Come  along  after,  old  man  ! "  and  to  her  mother,  "  Take 
care  of  yourself ! "  which  is  the  Pike  County  for  Au 
rcvoir  !  Her  mustang  tugged  at  the  bit,  and  bounded 
wildly  into  the  air.  We  reached  a  stream  bank  at  full 
gallop,  the  horses  clearing  it  at  a  bound,  sweeping  on  over 
the  green  floor,  and  under  the  magnificent  shadow  of  the 
forest.  Newty,  following  us  at  an  humble  trot,  slopped 
tlirough  the  creek,  and  Avhen  I  last  looked  he  had  nearly 
reached  the  edge  of  the  wood. 

I  could  but  admire  the  unconscious  excellence  of  Susan's 
riding,  her  firm,  immovable  seat,  and  the  perfect  coolness 
with  which  she  held  the  fiery  horse.  This  quite  absorbed 
me  for  five  minutes,  when  she  at  last  broke  the  silence 
by  the  laconic  inquiry,  "  Does  yourn  buck  ?  "  To  which 
I  added  the  reply  that  he  had   only  occasionally  been 


THE  NEWTYS   OF  PIKE.  109 

guilty  of  that  indiscretion.  She  then  informed  me  that 
the  first  time  she  had  mounted  the  colt  he  had  "  nearly- 
bucked  her  to  pieces ;  he  had  jumped  and  jounced  till 
she  was  plum  tuckered  out"  before  he  had  given  up. 
Gradually  reining  the  horses  down  and  inducing  them  to 
walk,  we  rode  side  by  side  through  the  most  magnificent 
forest  of  the  Sierras,  and  I  determined  to  probe  Susan 
to  see  whether  there  were  not,  even  in  the  most  latent 
condition,  some  germs  of  the  appreciation  of  nature.  I 
looked  from  base  to  summit  of  the  magnificent  shafts,  at 
the  green  plumes  which  traced  themselves  against  the 
sky,  the  exquisite  fall  of  purple  shadows  and  golden 
light  upon  trunks,  at  the  labyrinth  of  glowing  flowers,  at 
the  sparkling  whiteness  of  the  mountain  brook,  and  up  to 
the  clear  matchless  blue  that  vaulted  over  us,  then  turned 
to  Susan's  plain,  honest  face,  and  gradually  introduced 
the  subject  of  trees.  Ideas  of  lumber  and  utilitarian 
notions  of  fence-rails  were  uppermost  in  her  mind  ;  but  I 
briefly  penetrated  what  proved  to  be  only  a  superficial 
stratum  of  the  materialistic,  and  asked  her  point-blank 
if  she  did  not  admire  their  stately  symmetry.  A  strange, 
new  light  gleamed  in  her  eye  as  I  described  to  her  the 
growth  and  distribution  of  forests,  and  the  marvellous 
change  in  their  character  and  aspects  as  they  approached 
the  tropics.  The  palm  and  the  pine,  as  I  worked  them 
up  to  her,  really  filled  her  with  delight,  and  prompted 
numerous  interested  and  intelligent  queries,  showing  that 
she  thoroughly  comprehended  my  drift. 

In  the  pleasant  hour  of  our  chat  I  learned  a  new  lesson 
of  the  presence  of  undeveloped  seed  in  the  human  mind. 

Mr.  Newty  at  last  came  alongside  and  remarked  that 
he  must  stop  about  here ;  "  but,"  he  added,  "  Susan  will  go 
on  with  you  about  half  a  mile,  and  come  back  and  join 
me  here  after  I  have  taken  a  look  at  the  feed."     As  he 


110  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

rode  out  into  the  forest  a  little  way,  he  called  me  to  him, 
and  I  was  a  little  puzzled  at  what  seemed  to  be  the  first 
traces  of  embarrassment  I  had  seen  in  his  manner. 

"  You  '11  take  care  of  yourself,  now,  won't  you  ? "  he 
asked.     I  tried  to  convince  him  that  I  would. 

A  slight  pause. 

"  You  '11  take  care  of  yourself,  won't  you  ?  '* 

He  might  rely  on  it,  I  was  going  to  say. 

He  added,  "  Thet  —  thet  —  thet  man  what  gits  Susan 
has  half  the  hogs  !  " 

Then  turning  promptly  away,  he  spurred  the  pony,  and 
his  words  as  he  rode  into  the  forest  were,  "  Take  good 
care  of  yourself  !  " 

Susan  and  I  rode  on  for  half  a  mile,  until  we  reached 
the  brow  of  a  long  descent,  which  she  gave  me  to  under- 
stand was  her  limit. 

We  shook  hands  and  I  bade  her  good  by,  and  as  I 
trotted  off  these  words  fell  sweetly  upon  my  ear,  "  Say, 
you  11  take  good  care  of  yourself,  won't  you,  say  ?  " 

I  took  pains  not  to  overtake  my  camp-men,  wishing  to 
be  alone ;  and  as  I  rode  for  hour  after  hour  the  picture  of 
this  family  stood  before  me  in  all  its  deformity  of  outline, 
all  its  poverty  of  detail,  all  its  darkness  of  future,  and  I 
believe  I  thought  of  it  too  gravely  to  enjoy  as  I  might 
the  subtle  light  of  comedy  which  plays  about  these  hard, 
repulsive  figures. 

In  conversation  I  had  caught  the  clew  of  a  better  past. 
Newty's  father  was  a  New-England er,  and  he  spoke  of 
him  as  a  man  of  intelligence  and,  as  I  should  judge, 
of  some  education.  Mrs.  Newty's  father  had  been  an 
Arkansas  judge,  not  perhaps  the  most  enlightened  of  men, 
but  still  very  far  in  advance  of  herself.  The  conspicuous 
retrograde  seemed  to  me  an  example  of  the  most  hopeless 
phase  of  human  life.     If,  as  I  suppose,  we  may  all  sooner 


THE  NEWTYS   OF   PIKE.  Ill 

or  later  give  in  our  adhesion  to  the  Darwinian  view  of 
development,  does  not  the  same  law  which  permits  such 
splendid  scope  for  the  better  open  up  to  us  also  possible 
gulfs  of  degradation,  and  are  not  these  chronic  emigrants 
whose  broken-down  wagons  and  weary  faces  greet  you 
along  the  dusty  highways  of  the  far  West  melancholy 
examples  of  beings  who  have  forever  lost  the  conserva- 
tism of  home  and  the  power  of  improvement  ? 


112  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIEKRA  NEVADA. 


VI. 
KAWEAH'S    IIJJ^. 

After  trying  hard  to  climb  Mount  Whitney  without 
success,  and  having  returned  to  the  plains,  I  enjoyed  my 
two  days'  rest  in  hot  Yisalia,  where  were  fruits  and  people, 
and  where  I  at  length  thawed  out  the  last  traces  of  alpine 
cold,  and  recovered  from  hard  work  and  the  sinful  bread 
of  my  fortnight's  campaign.  I  considered  it  happiness  to 
spend  my  whole  day  on  the  quiet  hotel  veranda  accus- 
toming myself  again  to  such  articles  as  chairs  and  news- 
papers, and  Avatching  with  unexpected  pleasure  the  few 
village  girls  who  flitted  about  during  the  day,  and  actu- 
ally found  time  after  sunset  to  chat  with  favored  fel- 
lows beneath  the  wide  oaks  of  the  street-side.  Especially 
interesting  seemed  the  rustic  sister  of  whom  I  bought  figs 
at  a  garden  gate,  thinking  her,  as  I  did,  comme  il  faut, 
though  recollecting  later  that  her  gown  was  of  forgotten 
mode,  and  that  she  carried  a  suggestion  of  ancient  history 
in  the  obsolete  style  of  her  back  hair.  Everybody  was  of 
interest  to  me,  not  excepting  the  two  Mexican  moun- 
taineers who  monopolized  the  agent  at  Wells,  Fargo,  & 
Co.'s  office,  causing  me  delay.  They  were  transacting 
some  little  item  of  business,  and  stood  loafing  by  the 
counter,  mechanically  jingling  huge  spurs  and  shrugging 
their  shoulders  as  they  chatted  in  a  dull,  sleepy  way. 
At  the  door  they  paused,  keeping  up  quite  a  lively  dis- 
pute, without  apparently  noticing  me  as  I  drew  a  small 
bag  of  gold  and  put  it  in  my  pocket.     There  was  no 


KAWEAH'S  RUN.  113 

especial  reason  why  I  sliould  remark  the  stolid,  brutal 
cast  of  their  countenances,  as  I  thought  them  not  worse 
than  the  average  Californian  greaser ;  but  it  occurred  to  me 
that  one  might  as  well  guess  at  a  geological  formation  as 
to  attempt  to  judge  the  age  of  mountaineers,  because  they 
get  very  early  in  life  a  fixed  expression,  which  is  deepened 
by  continual  rough  weathering  and  undisturbed  accumu- 
lations of  dirt.  I  observed  them  enough  to  see  that  the 
elder  was  a  man  of  middle  height,  of  wiry,  light  figure 
and  thin  hawk  visage  ;  a  certain  angular  sharpness  mak- 
ing itself  noticeable  about  the  shoulders  and  arms,  which 
tapered  to  small  almost  refined  hands.  A  mere  fringe  of 
perfectly  straight  black  beard  followed  the  curve  of  his 
chin,  tangling  itself  at  the  ear  with  shaggy  unkempt 
locks  of  hair.  He  wore  an  ordinary  stiff-brimmed 
Spanish  sombrero,  and  the  inevitable  greasy  red  sash 
performed  its  rather  difficult  task  of  holding  together 
flannel  shirt  and  buckskin  breeches,  besides  half  covering 
with  folds  a  long  narrow  knife. 

His  companion  struck  me  as  a  half-breed  Indian,  some- 
where about  eighteen  years  of  age,  his  beardless  face 
showing  deep  brutal  lines,  and  a  mouth  which  was  a  mere 
crease  between  hideously  heavy  lips.  Blood  stained  the 
rowels  of  his  spurs ;  an  old  felt  hat,  crumpled  and 
ragged,  slouched  forward  over  his  eyes,  doing  its  best  to 
hide  the  man. 

I  thought  them  a  hard  couple,  and  summed  up  their 
traits  as  stolidity  and  utter  cruelty. 

I  was  pleased  that  the  stable-man  who  saddled  Kaweah 
was  unable  to  answer  their  inquiry  where  I  was  going, 
and  annoyed  when  I  heard  the  hotel-keeper  inform  them 
that  I  started  that  day  for  Millerton. 

Leaving  behind  us  peojile  and  village,  Kaweah  bore  me 
out  under  the  grateful  shade  of  oaks,  among  rambling 


114  MOUNTAINEERING   IN    THE   SIERRA   NEVADA. 

settlements  and  fields  of  harvested  grain,  whose  pale 
Naples-yellow  stubble  and  stacks  contrasted  finely  with 
the  deep  foliage,  and  served  as  a  pretty  groundwork  for 
stripes  of  vivid  green  which  marked  the  course  of  num- 
berless irrigating  streams.  Low  cottages,  overarched  with 
boughs  and  hemmed  in  with  weed  jungles,  margined  my 
road.  I  saw  at  the  gate  many  children  who  looked  me 
out  of  countenance  with  their  serious,  stupid  stare ;  they 
were  the  least  self-conscious  of  any  human  beings  I  have 
seen. 

Trees  and  settlements  and  children  were  soon  behind 
us,  an  open  plain  stretching  on  in  front  without  visi- 
ble limit,  —  a  plain  slightly  browned  with  the  traces  of 
dried  herbaceous  plants,  and  unrelieved  by  other  ob- 
ject than  distant  processions  of  trees  traced  from  some 
canon  gate  of  the  Sierras  westward  across  to  the  middle 
valley,  or  occasional  bands  of  restless  cattle  marching 
solemnly  about  in  search  of  food.  It  was  not  pleasant  to 
realize  that  I  had  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles  of  this 
lonely  sort  of  landscape  ahead  of  me,  nor  that  my  only 
companion  was  Kaweah  ;  for  with  all  his  splendid  powers 
and  rare  qualities  of  instinct  there  was  not  the  slight- 
est evidence  of  response  or  affection  in  his  behavior. 
Friendly  toleration  was  the  highest  gift  he  bestowed 
on  me,  though  I  think  he  had  great  personal  enjoyment 
in  my  habits  as  a  rider.  The  only  moments  that  we  ever 
seemed  thoroughly  en  rapport  were  when  I  crowded  him 
down  to  a  wild  run,  using  the  spur  and  shouting  at  him 
loudly,  or  when  in  our  friendly  races  homeward  toward 
camp,  through  the  forest,  I  put  him  at  a  leap  where  he 
even  doubted  his  own  power.  At  such  times  I  could 
communicate  ideas  to  him  with  absolute  certainty.  He 
would  stop,  or  turn,  or  gather  himself  for  a  leap,  at  my 
will,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  by  some  sort  of  magnetic  com- 


KAWEAH'S  RUN.  115 

munication ;  but  I  always  paid  dearly  for  this  in  long, 
tiresome  efforts  to  calm  him. 

With  the  long  level  road  ahead  of  me,  I  dared  not 
attack  its  monotony  by  any  unusual  riding,  and  having 
settled  him  at  our  regular  travelling  trot,  —  a  gait  of  about 
six  miles  an  hour,  —  I  forgot  all  about  the  dreary  expanse 
of  plain,  and  gave  myself  up  to  quiet  revery.  About 
dusk  we  had  reached  the  King's  River  Ferry. 

An  ugly,  unpainted  house,  perched  upon  the  bluff,  and 
flanked  by  barns  and  outbuildings  of  disorderly  aspect, 
overlooked  the  ferry.  Not  a  sign  of  green  vegetation 
could  be  seen,  except  certain  half-dried  willow^s  standing 
knee-deep  along  the  river's  margin,  and  that  dark  pine 
zone  lifted  upon  the  Sierras  in  eastern  distance. 

It  is  desperate  punishment  to  stay  through  a  summer 
at  one  of  these  plain  ranches,  there  to  be  beat  upon  by  an 
unrelenting  sun,  in  the  midst  of  a  scorched  landscape, 
and  forced  to  breathe  sirocco  and  sand;  yet  there  are 
found  plenty  of  people  who  are  glad  to  become  master 
of  one  of  these  ferries  or  stage  stations,  their  life  for  the 
most  part  silent,  and  as  unvaried  as  its  outlook,  given 
over  wholly  to  permanent  and  vacant  loafing. 

Supper  was  announced  by  a  business-like  youth,  who 
came  out  upon  the  veranda  and  vigorously  rung  a  tavern 
bell,  although  I  was  the  only  auditor,  and,  likely  enough, 
the  only  person  within  twenty  miles. 

I  envy  my  horse  at  such  times  ;  the  graminiverous  have 
us  at  a  disadvantage,  for  one  revolts  at  the  citisine, 
although  disliking  to  insult  the  house  by  quietly  shying 
the  food  out  the  window.  I  arose  hungry  from  the  table, 
remembering  that  some  eminent  hygeist  has  avowed  that 
by  so  doing  one  has  achieved  sanitary  success. 

As  I  walked  over  to  see  Kaweah  at  the  corral,  I 
glanced  down  the  river,  and  saw,  perhaps  a  quarter  of  a 


116  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

mile  below,  two  horsemen  ride  down  our  bank,  spur  tlieir 
horses  into  the  stream,  swim  to  the  other  side,  and 
struggle  up  a  steep  bank,  disappearing  among  bunches 
of  Cottonwood  trees  near  the  river. 

So  dangerous  and  unusual  a  proceeding  could  not  have 
been  to  save  the  half-dollar  ferriage.  There  was  some- 
thing about  their  seat,  and  the  cruel  way  they  drove 
home  their  spurs,  that,  in  default  of  better  reasons,  made 
me  think  them  Mexicans. 

The  whole  Tulare  plain  is  the  home  of  nomadic  ranch- 
ers, who,  as  pasturage  changes,  drive  about  their  herds  of 
horses  and  cattle  from  range  to  range  ;  and  as  the  wolves 
prowl  around  for  prey,  so  a  class  of  Mexican  highwaymen 
rob  and  murder  them  from  one  year's  end  to  the  other. 

I  judged  the  swimmers  were  bent  on  some  such  errand, 
and  lay  down  on  the  ground  by  Kaweah,  to  guard  him, 
rolling  myself  in  my  soldier's  great-coat,  and  slept  with 
saddle  for  a  pillow. 

Once  or  twice  the  animal  waked  me  up  by  stamping 
restively,  but  I  could  perceive  no  cause  for  alarm,  and 
slept  on  comfortably  until  a  little  before  sunrise,  when  I 
rose,  took  a  plunge  in  the  river,  and  hurriedly  dressed 
myself  for  the  day's  ride ;  the  ferryman,  who  had  prom- 
ised to  put  me  across  the  river  at  dawn,  was  already  at 
his  post,  and,  after  permitting  Kaweah  to  drink  a  deep 
draught,  I  rode  him  out  on  the  ferry-boat,  and  was 
quickly  at  the  other  side. 

The  road  for  two  or  three  miles  ascends  the  right  bank 
of  the  river,  approaching  in  places  quite  closely  to  the 
edge  of  its  bluffs.  I  greatly  enjoyed  my  ride,  watching 
the  Sierra  sky-line  high  and  black  against  a  golden  circle 
of  dawn,  and  seeing  it  mirrored  faithfully  in  still  reaches 
of  river,  and  pleasing  myself  with  the  continually  chan- 
ging foreground,  as  gi^oup  after  group  of  tall  motionless 


KAWEAH'S  RUN.  117 

cottonwoods  were  passed.  The  wiUows,  too,  are  pleasing 
in  their  entire  harmony  with  the  scene,  and  the  air  they 
have  of  protecting  bank  and  shore  from  torrent  and  sun. 
The  plain  stretched  off  to  my  left  into  dusky  distance, 
and  ahead,  in  a  bare,  smooth  expanse,  dreary  by  its 
monotony,  yet  not  altogether  repulsive  in  the  pearly  ob- 
scurity of  the  morning.  In  midsummer  these  plains  are 
as  hot  as  the  Sahara  through  the  long  blinding  day ;  but 
after  midnight  there  comes  a  delicious  blandness  upon  the 
air,  a  suggestion  of  freshness  and  upspringing  hfe,  which 
renews  vitality  within  you. 

Kaweah  showed  the  influence  of  this  condition  in  the 
sensitive  play  of  ears  and  toss  of  head,  and  in  his  free, 
spirited  stride.  I  was  experimenting  on  his  sensitiveness 
to  sounds,  and  had  found  that  his  ears  turned  back  at  the 
faintest  whisper,  when  suddenly  his  head  rose,  he  looked 
sharply  forward  toward  a  clump  of  trees  on  the  river- 
bank,  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  in  front  of  us,  where  a 
quick  glance  revealed  to  me  a  camp-fire  and  two  men 
hurrying  saddles  upon  their  horses,  —  a  gray  and  a  sorrel. 

They  were  Spaniards,  —  the  same  who  had  swum 
King's  Eiver  the  afternoon  before,  and,  as  it  flashed  on 
me  finally,  the  two  whom  I  had  studied  so  attentively  at 
Visalia.  Then  I  at  once  saw  their  purpose  was  to  way- 
lay me,  and  made  up  my  mind  to  give  them  a  lively  run. 
The  road  followed  the  bank  up  to  their  camp  in  an 
easterly  direction,  and  then,  turning  a  sharp  right  angle 
to  the  north,  led  out  upon  the  open  plain,  leaving  the 
river  finally. 

I  decided  to  strike  across,  and  threw  Kaweah  into  a 
sharp  trot. 

I  glanced  at  my  girth  and  then  at  the  bright  copper 
upon  my  pistol,  and  settled  myself  firmly  in  the  saddle. 

Finding  that  they  could  not  saddle  quickly  enough  to 


118  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

attack  me  mounted,  the  older  villain  grabbed  a  shot-gun, 
anc""  sprung  out  to  head  me  off,  his  comrade  meantime 
tightening  the  cinches. 

I  turned  Kaweah  farther  off  to  the  left,  and  tossed  him 
a  little  more  rein,  which  he  understood  and  sprung  out 
into  a  gallop. 

The  robber  brought  his  gim  to  his  shoulder,  covered 

me,  and  yelled  in  good  English,  "  Hold  on,  you ! " 

At  that  instant  his  companion  dashed  up  leading  the 
other  horse.  In  another  moment  they  were  mounted  and 
after  me,  yelling, "  Hu-hla  "  to  the  mustangs,  plunging  in 
the  spurs,  and  shouting  occasional  volleys  of  oaths. 

By  this  time  I  had  regained  the  road,  which  lay  before 
me  traced  over  the  blank  objectless  plain  in  vanishing 
perspective.  Fifteen  miles  lay  between  me  and  a  station ; 
Kaweah  and  pistol  were  my  only  defence,  yet  at  that 
moment  I  felt  a  thrill  of  pleasure,  a  wild  moment  of  in- 
spiration, almost  worth  the  danger  to  experience. 

I  glanced  over  my  shoulder  and  found  that  the 
Spaniards  were  crowding  their  horses  to  the  fullest  speed  ; 
their  hoofs  rattling  on  the  dry  plain  were  accompanied  by 
inarticulate  noises,  like  the  cries  of  bloodhounds.  Kaweah 
comprehended  the  situation.  I  could  feel  his  grand 
legs  gather  under  me,  and  the  iron  muscles  contract  with 
excitement ;  he  tugged  at  the  bit,  shook  his  bridle-chains, 
and  flung  himself  impatiently  into  the  air. 

It  flashed  upon  me  that  perhaps  they  had  confederates 
concealed  in  some  ditch  far  in  advance  of  me,  and  that 
the  plan  was  to  crowd  me  through  at  fullest  speed,  giving 
up  the  chase  to  new  men  and  fresh  horses  ;  and  I  resolved 
to  save  Kaweah  to  the  utmost,  and  only  allow  him  a 
speed  which  should  keep  me  out  of  gunshot.  So  I  held 
him  firmly,  and  reserved  my  spur  for  the  last  emergency. 
Still  we  fairly  flew  over  the  plain,  and  I  said  to  myself. 


KAWEAH'S   RUN.  119 

as  the  clatter  of  hoofs  and  din  of  my  pursuers  rang  in 
my  ears  now  and  then,  as  the  freshening  breeze  hur- 
ried it  forward,  that,  if  those  brutes  got  me,  there  was 
nothing  in  blood  and  brains ;  for  Kaweah  was  a  prince 
beside  their  mustangs,  and  I  ought  to  be  worth  two  vil- 
lains. 

For  the  first  twenty  minutes  the  road  was  hard  and 
smooth  and  level ;  after  that  gentle,  shallow  undulations 
began,  and  at  last,  at  brief  intervals,  were  sharp  narrow 
arroyos  (ditches  eight  or  nine  feet  wide).  I  reined 
Kaweah  in,  and  brought  him  up  sharply  on  their  bot- 
toms, giving  him  the  bit  to  spring  up  on  the  other 
side ;  but  he  quickly  taught  me  better,  and,  gathering, 
took  them  easily,  without  my  feeling  it  in  his  stride. 

The  hot  sun  had  arisen.  I  saw  with  anxiety  that  the 
tremendous  speed  began  to  tell  painfully  on  Kaweah. 
Foam  tinged  with  blood  fell  from  his  mouth,  and  sweat 
rolled  in  streams  from  his  whole  body,  and  now  and  then 
he  drew  a  deep-heaving  breath.  I  leaned  down  and  felt 
of  the  cinch  to  see  if  it  had  slipped  forward,  but,  as  I  had 
saddled  him  with  great  care,  it  kept  its  true  place,  so  I 
had  only  to  fear  the  greasers  behind,  or  a  new  relay 
ahead.  I  was  conscious  of  plenty  of  reserved  speed  in 
Kaweah,  whose  pow^erful  run  was  already  distancing  their 
fatigued  mustangs. 

As  we  bounded  down  a  roll  of  the  plain,  a  cloud  of 
dust  sprung  from  a  ravine  directly  in  front  of  me,  and 
two  black  objects  lifted  themselves  in  the  sand.  I  drew 
my  pistol,  cocked  it,  whirled  Kaweah  to  the  left,  plunging 
by  and  clearing  them  by  about  six  feet ;  a  thrill  of  relief 
came  as  I  saw  the  long  white  horns  of  Spanish  cattle 
gleam  above  the  dust. 

Unconsciously  I  restrained  Kaweah  too  much,  and  in 
a  moment  the  Spaniards  were  crowding  down  upon  me 


120  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

at  a  fearful  rate.  On  they  came,  the  crash  of  their  spurs 
and  the  clatter  of  their  horses  distinctly  heard ;  and  as  I 
had  so  often  compared  the  heats  of  chronometers,  I  un- 
consciously, noted  that  while  Kaweah's,  although  painful, 
yet  came  with  regular  power,  the  mustang's  respiration 
was  quick,  spasmodic,  and  irregular.  I  compared  the  in- 
tervals of  the  two  mustangs,  and  found  that  one  breathed 
better  than  the  other,  and  then  upon  counting  the  best 
mustang  with  Kaweah,  found  that  he  breathed  nine 
breaths  to  Kaweah's  seven.  In  two  or  three  minutes  I 
tried  it  again,  finding  the  relation  ten  to  seven ;  then  I 
felt  the  victory,  and  I  yelled  to  Kaweah.  The  thin  ears 
shot  back  flat  upon  his  neck  ;  lower  and  lower  he  lay  down 
to  his  run;  I  flung  him  a  loose  rein,  and  gave  him  a 
friendly  pat  on  the  withers.  It  was  a  glorious  burst  of 
speed ;  the  wind  rushed  by  and  the  plain  swept  under  us 
with  dizzying  swiftness.  I  shouted  again,  and  the  thing 
of  nervous  life  under  me  bounded  on  wilder  and  faster, 
tin  I  could  feel  his  spine  thriU  as  with  shocks  from  a 
battery.  I  managed  to  look  round,  —  a  delicate  matter 
at  speed,  —  and  saw,  far  behind,  tlie  distanced  villains, 
both  dismounted,  and  one  horse  fallen. 

In  an  instant  I  drew  Kaweah  in  to  a  gentle  trot,  look- 
ing around  every  moment,  lest  they  should  come  on  me 
unawares.  In  a  half-mile  I  reached  the  station,  and  I 
was  cautiously  greeted  by  a  man  who  sat  by  the  barn 
door,  with  a  rifle  across  his  knees.  He  had  seen  me  come 
over  the  plain,  and  had  also  seen  the  Spanish  horse  fall. 
Not  knowing  but  he  might  be  in  league  with  the  robbers, 
I  gave  him  a  careful  glance  before  dismounting,  and  was 
completely  reassured  by  an  expression  of  terror  which 
had  possession  of  his  countenance. 

I  spiung  to  the  ground  and  threw  off  the  saddle,  and 
after  a  word  or  two  with  the  man,  who  proved  to  be  the 


K  A  WEAR'S   RUN.  121 

sole  occnpant  of  this  station,  we  fell  to  work  together 
upon  Kaweah,  my  cocked  pistol  and  his  rifle  lying  close 
at  hand.  We  sponged  the  creature's  mouth,  and,  throw- 
ing a  sheet  over  him,  walked  him  regularly  up  and  down 
for  about  three  quarters  of  an  hour,  and  then  taking  him 
upon  the  open  plain,  where  we  could  scan  the  horizon  in 
all  directions,  gave  him  a  thorough  grooming.  I  never 
saw  him  look  so  magnificently  as  when  we  led  him  down 
to  the  creek  to  drink ;  his  skin  was  like  satin,  and  the 
veins  of  his  head  and  neck  stood  out  firm  and  round  like 
whip-cords. 

In  the  excitement  of  taking  care  of  Kaweah  I  had 
scarcely  paid  any  attention  to  my  host,  but  after  two 
hours,  when  the  horse  was  quietly  munching  his  hay,  I 
listened  attentively  to  his  story. 

The  two  Spaniards  had  lurked  round  his  station  dur- 
ing the  night,  guns  in  hand,  and  had  made  an  attempt  to 
steal  a  pair  of  stage-horses  from  the  stable,  but,  as  he  had 
watched  with  his  rifle,  they  finally  rode  away. 

By  his  account,  I  knew  them  to  be  my  pursuers ;  they 
had  here,  however,  ridden  two  black  mustangs,  and  had 
doubtless  changed  their  mount  for  the  sole  purpose  of 
waylaying  me. 

About  eleven  o'clock,  it  being  my  turn  to  watch  the 
horizon,  I  saw  two  horsemen  making  a  long  detour  round 
the  station,  disappearing  finally  in  the  direction  of  Mil- 
lerton.  By  my  glass  I  could  only  make  out  that  they 
were  men  riding  in  single  file  on  a  sorrel  and  a  gray 
horse ;  but  this,  with  the  fact  of  the  long  detour  which 
finally  brought  them  back  into  the  road  again,  convinced 
me  that  they  were  my  enemies.  Tlie  uncomfortable  prob- 
ability of  their  raising  a  band,  and  returning  to  make 
sure  of  my  capture,  filled  me  with  disagreeable  foreboding, 
and  all  day  long,  whether  my  turn  at  sentinel  duty  or 


122  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

not,  I  did  little  else  than  range  my  eye  over  the  valley 
in  all  directions. 

Twice  during  the  day  I  led  Kaweah  out  and  paced  him 
to  and  fro,  for  fear  his  tremendous  exertion  would  cause 
a  stiffening  of  the  legs ;  but  each  time  he  followed  close 
to  my  shoulder  with  the  same  firm,  proud  step,  and  I 
gloried  in  him. 

Shortly  after  dark  I  determined  to  mount  and  push 
forward  to  Millerton,  my  friend,  the  station-man,  having 
given  me  careful  directions  as  to  its  position ;  and  I  knew 
from  the  topography  of  the  country,  that,  by  abandoning 
the  road  and  travelling  by  the  stars,  I  could  not  widely 
miss  my  mark ;  so  at  about  nine  o'clock  I  saddled  up 
Kaweah,  and,  mounting,  bade  good  by  to  my  friend. 

The  air  was  bland,  the  heavens  cloudless  and  starlit ; 
in  the  west  a  low  arch  of  light  out  of  which  had  faded 
the  last  traces  of  sunset  color ;  in  the  east  a  silver  dawn 
shone  mild  and  pure  above  the  Sierras,  brightening  as  the 
light  in  the  west  faded,  till  at  last  one  jetty  crag  was  cut 
upon  the  disk  of  rising  moon. 

Upon  the  light  gray  tone  of  the  plain  every  object 
might  be  seen,  and  as  I  rode  on  the  memory  of  danger 
passed  away,  leaving  me  in  full  enjoyment  of  companion- 
ship with  the  hour  and  with  my  friend  Kaweah,  whose 
sturdy,  easy  stride  was  in  itself  a  delight.  There  is  a 
charm  peculiar  to  these  soft,  dewless  nights.  It  seems 
the  perfection  of  darkness  in  which  you  get  all  the  rest 
of  sleep  while  riding,  or  lying  wide  awake  on  your 
blankets.  Now  and  then  an  object,  vague  and  unrecog- 
nized, loomed  out  of  dusky  distance,  arresting  our  atten- 
tion, for  Kaweah's  quick  eye  usually  found  them  first: 
dead  carcasses  of  starved  cattle,  a  blanched  skull,  or 
stump  of  aged  oak,  were  the  only  things  seen,  and  we 
gradually  got  accustomed  to  these,  passing  with  no  more 
than  a  glance. 


KAWEAH'S   RUN.  123 

At  last  we  approaclied  a  region  of  low,  rolling  sand- 
hills, where  Kaweah's  tread  became  muffled,  and  the 
silence  so  oppressive  as  to  call  out  from  me  a  whistle. 
That  instrument  proved  excellent  in  Traviata  solos  ;  but 
when  I  attempted  some  of  Chopin,  failed  so  painfully 
that  I  was  glad  to  be  diverted  by  arriving  at  the  summit 
of  the  zone  of  hills,  and  looking  out  upon  the  wide,  shal- 
low valley  of  the  San  Joaquin,  a  plain  dotted  with  groves, 
and  lighted  here  and  there  by  open  reaches  of  moonlit 
river. 

I  looked  up  and  down,  searching  for  lights  which  should 
mark  Millerton.  I  had  intended  to  strike  the  river  above 
the  settlement,  and  should  now,  if  my  reckoning  was  cor- 
rect, be  within  half  a  mile  of  it. 

Eiding  down  to  the  river-bank,  I  dismounted,  and  al- 
lowed Kaweah  to  quench  his  thirst.  The  cool  mountain 
water,  fresh  from  the  snow,  was  delicious  to  him.  He 
drank,  stopped  to  breathe,  and  drank  again  and  again.  I 
allowed  him  also  to  feed  a  half-moment  on  the  grass  by 
the  river-bank,  and  then  remounting  headed  down  the 
river,  and  rode  slowly  along  under  the  shadow  of  trees, 
following  a  broad,  well-beaten  trail  which  led,  as  I  be- 
lieved to  the  village. 

While  in  a  grove  of  oaks,  jingling  spurs  suddenly 
sounded  ahead,  and  directly  I  heard  voices.  I  quickly 
turned  Kaweah  from  the  trail,  and  tied  him  a  few  rods 
off,  behind  a  thicket,  then  crawled  back  into  a  bunch  of 
buckeye  bushes,  disturbing  some  small  birds,  who  took 
flight.  In  a  moment  two  horsemen,  talking  Spanish, 
neared,  and  as  they  passed  I  recognized  their  horses  and 
then  the  men.  The  impulse  to  try  a  shot  was  so  strong 
that  I  got  out  my  revolver,  but  upon  second  thought  put 
it  up.  As  they  rode  on  into  the  she^dow,  the  younger,  as 
I  judged  by  his  voice,  broke  out  in  a  delicious  melody, 


124  MOUNT AINEEKING  IN  THE   SIEREA  NEVADA. 

one  of  those  passionate  Spanish  songs  with  a  peculiar 
throbbing  cadence,  which  he  emphasized  by  sharply  ring- 
ing his  spurs. 

These  Californian  scoundrels  are  invariably  light- 
hearted  ;  crime  cannot  overshadow  the  exhilaration  of 
outdoor  life,  remorse  and  gloom  are  banished  like  clouds 
before  this  perennially  sunny  climate.  They  make  amuse- 
ment out  of  killing  you,  and  regard  a  successful  plunder- 
ing time  as  a  sort  of  pleasantry. 

As  the  soft  full  tones  of  my  bandit  died  in  distance,  I 
went  for  Kaweah,  and  rode  rapidly  westward  in  the  oppo- 
site direction,  bringing  up  soon  in  the  outskirts  of  MiUer- 
ton,  just  as  the  last  gamblers  were  closing  up  their  little 
games,  and  about  the  time  the  drunk  were  conveying  one 
another  home.  Kaweah  being  stabled,  I  went  to  the 
hotel,  an  excellent  and  orderly  establishment,  where  a 
colored  man  of  mild  manners  gave  me  supper  and  made 
me  at  home  by  gentle  conversation,  promising  at  last  to 
wake  me  early,  and  bidding  me  good  night  at  my  room 
door  Avith  the  tones  of  an  old  friend.  I  think  his  sooth- 
ing spirit  may  partly  account  for  the  genuinely  profound 
sleep  into  which  I  quickly  fell,  and  which  held  me  fast 
bound,  until  his  hand  on  my  shoulder  and  "  Half  past 
four,  sir,"  called  me  back,  and  renewed  the  currents  of 
consciousness. 

After  we  had  had  our  breakfast  Kaweah  and  I  forded 
the  San  Joaquin,  and  I  at  once  left  the  road,  determined 
to  follow,  a  mountain  trail  which  led  toward  Mariposa. 
The  trail  proved  a  good  one  to  travel,  of  smooth,  soft  sur- 
face, and  pleasant  in  its  diversity  of  ups  and  downs,  and 
with  rambling  curves  which  led  through  open  regions  of 
brown  hills,  whose  fern  and  grass  were  ripened  to  a  com- 
mon yellow-brown,  then  among  park-like  slopes,  crowned 
with  fine  oaks,  and  occasional  pine  woods,  the  ground 


KAWEAH'S  RUN.  125 

frequently  covering  itself  with  clumps  of  sucli  shrubs 
as  chaparral,  and  the  never-enough-adniired  manzanita. 
Yet  I  think  I  never  saw  such  facilities  for  an  ambuscade. 
I  imagined  the  path  went  out  of  its  way  to  thread  every 
thicket,  and  the  very  trees  grouped  themselves  with  a 
view  to  highway  robbery. 

I  soon,  though,  got  tired  looking  out  for  my  Spaniards, 
and  became  assured  of  having  my  ride  to  myself  when  I 
studied  the  trail,  and  found  that  Kaweah's  were  the  first 
tracks  of  the  day. 

Eiding  thus  in  the  late  summer  along  the  Sierra  foot- 
hills, one  is  constantly  impressed  with  the  climatic  pecu- 
liarities of  the  region.  With  us  in  the  East,  ]3lant  life 
seems  to  continue  until  it  is  at  last  put  out  by  cold,  the 
trees  appear  to  grow  till  the  first  frosts  ;  but  in  the  Sierra 
foot-hills  growth  and  active  life  culminate  in  June  and 
early  July,  and  then  follow  long  months  of  warm  storm- 
less  autumn  wherein  the  hills  grow  slowly  browner,  and 
the  whole  air  seems  to  ripen  into  a  fascinating  repose,  — 
a  rich,  dreamy  quiet,  with  distance  lost  behind  pearly 
hazes,  v/ith  warm  tranquil  nights,  dewless  and  silent. 
This  period  is  wealthy  in  yellows  and  russets  and  browns, 
in  great  overhanging  masses  of  oak,  whose  olive  hue  is 
warmed  into  umber  depth,  in  groves  of  serious  pines,  red 
of  bark,  and  cool  in  the  dark  greenness  of  their  spires. 
Nature  wears  an  aspect  of  patient  waiting  for  a  great 
change ;  ripeness,  existence  beyond  the  accomplishment 
of  the  purpose  of  life,  a  long,  pleasant,  painless  waiting  for 
death,  —  these  are  the  conditions  of  the  vegetation  ;  and 
it  is  vegetation  more  than  the  peculiar  appearance  of  the 
air  which  impresses  the  strange  character  of  the  season. 
It  is  as  if  our  August  should  grow  rich  and  ripe,  through 
cloudless  days  and  glorious  warm  nights,  on  till  February, 
and  then  wake  as  from  sleep,  to  break  out  in  the  bloom 
of  May. 


126  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

I  was  delighted  to  ride  thus  alone,  and  expose  myself, 
as  one  uncovers  a  sensitized  photographic  plate,  to  be  in- 
fluenced ;  for  this  is  a  respite  from  scientific  work,  when 
through  months  you  hold  yourself  accountable  for  seeing 
everything,  for  analyzing,  for  instituting  perpetual  com- 
parison, and  as  it  were  sharing  in  the  administering  of  the 
physical  world.  I^o  tongue  can  tell  the  relief  to  simply 
withdraw  scientific  observation,  and  let  Nature  impress 
you  in  the  dear  old  way  with  all  her  mystery  and  glory, 
with  those  vague  indescribable  emotions  which  tremble 
between  wonder  and  sympathy. 

Behind  me  in  distance  stretched  the  sere  plain  where 
Kaweah's  run  saved  me.  To  the  west,  fading  out  into 
warm  blank  distance,  lay  the  great  valley  of  San  Joaquin, 
into  which,  descending  by  sinking  curves,  were  rounded 
hills,  with  sunny  brown  slopes  softened  as-  to  detail  by  a 
low  clinging  bank  of  milky  air.  Now  and  then  out  of 
the  haze  to  the  east  indistinct  rosy  peaks,  with  dull, 
silvery  snow-marblings,  stood  dimly  up  against  the  sky, 
and  higher  yet  a  few  sharp  summits  lifted  into  the  clearer 
heights  seemed  hung  there  floating.  Quite  in  harmony 
with  this  was  the  little  group  of  Dutch  settlements  I 
passed,  where  an  antique-looking  man  and  woman  sat 
together  on  a  veranda  sunning  their  white  hair,  and 
silently  smoking  old  porcelain  pipes. 

Nor  was  there  any  element  of  incongruity  at  the 
"  rancheria "  where  I  dismounted  to  rest  shortly  after 
noon.  A  few  sleepy  Indians  lay  on  their  backs  dream- 
ing ;  the  good-humored  stout  squaws,  nursing  pappooses, 
or  lying  outstretched  upon  red  blankets.  The  agreeable 
harmony  was  not  alone  from  the  Indian  summer  in  their 
blood,  but  in  part  as  well  from  the  features  of  their  dress 
and  facial  expression.  Their  clothes,  of  Caucasian  origin, 
quickly  fade   out  into  utter  barbarism,  toning  down  to 


KAWEAirS   RUN.  127 

warm  dirty  umbers,  never  failing  to  be  relieved,  here  and 
there,  by  ropes  of  blue  and  white  beads,  or  head-band 
and  girdle  of  scarlet  cloth.  I  saw  one  woman,  of  splendid 
mould,  soundly  sleeping  upon  her  back,  a  blanket  cover- 
ing her  from  the  waist  down  in  ample  folds,  her  bare 
body  and  large  full  breasts  kindled  into  bronze  under 
streaming  light ;  the  arms  flung  out  wide  and  relaxed ; 
the  lips  closed  with  grave  compression,  and  about  the 
eyes  and  full  throat  an  air  of  deep,  eternal  sleep.  She 
might  have  been  a  casting  in  metal  but  for  the  rich  hot 
color  in  her  lips  and  cheeks. 

Toward  the  late  afternoon,  trotting  down  a  gentle  forest 
slope,  I  came  in  sight  of  a  number  of  ranch  buildings 
grouped  about  a  central  open  space.  A  small  stream 
flowed  by  the  outbuildings,  and  wound  among  chaparral- 
covered  spurs  below.  Considerable  crops  of  grain  had 
been  gathered  into  a  corral,  and  a  number  of  horses  were 
quietly  straying  about.  Yet  with  all  the  evidences  of 
considerable  possessions  the  whole  place  had  an  air  of 
suspicious  mock-sleepiness.  Riding  into  the  open  square, 
I  saw  that  one  of  tlie  buildings  was  a  store,  and  to  tins  I 
rode,  tying  Kaweah  to  the  piazza  post. 

I  thought  the  whole  world  slumbered  when  I  beheld 
the  sole  occupant  of  this  country  store,  a  red-faced  man 
in  pantaloons  and  shirt,  who  lay  on  his  back  upon  a 
counter  fast  asleep,  the  handle  of  a  revolver  grasped  in 
his  right  hand.  It  seemed  to  me  if  I  were  to  wake  him 
up  a  little  too  suddenly  he  might  misunderstand  my 
presence  and  do  some  accidental  damage;  so  I  stepped 
back  and  poked  Kaweah,  making  him  jump  and  clatter 
his  hoofs,  and  at  once  the  proprietor  sprung  to  the  door, 
looking  flustered  and  uneasy. 

I  asked  him  if  he  could  accommodate  me  fbr  the  after- 
noon and  night,  and  take  care  of  my  liorse  ;  to  whicli  he 


128  MOUNTAINEERING   IN   THE    SIERKA   NEVADA. 

replied,  in  a  very  leisurely  manner,  that  tliere  was  a  bed, 
and  something  to  eat,  and  hay,  and  that  if  I  was  inclined 
to  take  the  chances  I  might  stay. 

Being  in  mind  to  take  the  chances,  I  did- stay,  and  my 
host  walked  out  with  me  to  the  corral,  and  showed  me 
where  to  get  Kaweah's  hay  and  grain. 

I  loafed  about  for  an  hour  or  two,  finding  that  a 
Chinese  cook  was  the  only  other  human  being  in  sight, 
and  then  concluded  to  pump  the  landlord.  A  half-hour's 
trial  thoroughly  disgusted  me,  and  I  gave  it  up  as  a  bad 
job.  I  did,  however,  learn  that  he  was  a  man  of  Southern 
birth,  of  considerable  education,  which  a  brutal  life  and 
depraved  mind  had  not  been  able  to  fully  obliterate.  He 
seemed  to  care  very  little  for  his  business,  which  indeed 
was  small  enough,  for  during  the  time  I  spent  there  not 
a  single  customer  made  his  appearance.  The  stock  of 
goods  I  observed  on  examination  to  be  chiefly  fire-arms, 
every  manner  of  gambling  apparatus,  and  liquors;  the 
few  pieces  of  stuffs,  barrels,  and  boxes  of  groceries  ap- 
peared to  be  disposed  rather  as  ornaments  than  for  actual 
sale. 

From  each  of  the  man's  trousers'  pockets  protruded 
the  handle  of  a  derringer,  and  behind  his  counter  were 
arranged  in  convenient  position  two  or  three  double- 
barrelled  shot-ouns. 

I  remarked  to  him  that  he  seemed  to  have  a  handily 
arranged  arsenal,  at  which  he  regarded  me  with  a  cool, 
quiet  stare,  polished  the  handle  of  one  of  his  derringers 
upon  his  trousers,  examined  the  percussion-cap  with 
great  deliberation,  and  then  with  a  nod  of  the  head 
intended  to  convey  great  force,  said,  "  You  don't  live  in 
these  parts,"  — a  fact  for  which  I  felt  not  unthankful. 

The  man  drank  brandy  freely  and  often,  and  at  inter- 
vals of  about  half  an  hour  called  to  his  side  a  plethoric 


KAWEAH'S   RUN.  129 

old  cat  named  "  Gospel,"  stroked  her  with  nervous  rapid- 
ity, swearing  at  the  same  time  in  so  distrait  and  uncon- 
scious a  manner  that  he  seemed  mechanically  talking  to 
himself. 

Wlioever  has  travelled  on  the  West  Coast  has  not 
failed  to  notice  the  fearful  volleys  of  oaths  which  the 
oxen-drivers  hurl  at  their  teams,  but  for  ingenious  flights 
of  fancy  profanity  I  have  never  met  the  equal  of  my 
host.  With  the  most  perfect  good-nature  and  in  un- 
moved continuance  he  uttered  florid  blasphemies,  which, 
I  think,  must  have  taken  hours  to  invent.  I  was  glad, 
when  bedtime  came,  to  be  relieved  of  his  presence,  and 
especially  pleased  when  he  took  me  to  the  little  separate 
building  in  which  was  a  narrow  single  bed.  Next  this 
building  on  the  left  was  the  cook-house  and  dining- 
room,  and  upon  the  right  lay  his  own  sleeping  apartment. 
Directly  across  the  square,  and  not  more  than  sixty  feet 
off,  was  the  gate  of  the  corral,  which  creaked  on  its  rusty 
hinges,  when  moved,  in  the  most  dismal  manner. 

As  I  lay  upon  my  bed  I  could  hear  Kaweah  occa- 
sionally stamp  ;  the  snoring  of  the  Chinaman  on  one  side, 
and  the  low  mumbled  conversation  of  my  host  and  his 
squaw  on  tlie  other.  I  felt  no  inclination  to  sleep,  but 
lay  there  in  half-doze,  quite  conscious,  yet  withdrawn 
from  the  present. 

I  think  it  must  have  been  about  eleven  o'clock  when  I 
heard  the  clatter  of  a  couple  of  horsemen,  who  galloped 
up  to  my  host's  building  and  sprang  to  the  ground,  their 
Spanish  spurs  ringing  on  the  stone.  I  sat  up  in  bed, 
grasped  my  pistol,  and  listened.  The  peach-tree  next  my 
window  rustled.  The  horses  moved  about  so  restlessly 
that  I  heard  but  little  of  the  conversation,  but  that  little 
I  found  of  personal  interest  to  myself. 

I  give  as  nearly  as  I  can  remember  the  fragments  of 

6*  I 


130  MOUNT AINEEEING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

dialogue  between  my  host  and  the  man  whom  I  recog- 
nized as  the  older  of  my  two  robbers. 

"  When  did  he  come  ? " 

"  Wall,  the  Sim  might  have  been  about  four  hours." 

"  Has  his  horse  give  out  ? " 

I  failed  to  hear  the  answer,  but  was  tempted  to  shout 
out  "  No !  " 

"  Gray  coat,  buckskin  breeches."     (My  dress.) 

"  Going  to  Mariposa  at  seven  in  the  morning." 

"  I  guess  I  would  n't  round  here." 

A  low  muttered  soliloquy  in  Spanish  wound  up  with 
a  growl. 

"  No,  Antone,  not  within  a  mile  of  the  place.  "  'Sta 
buen'." 

Out  of  the  compressed  jumble  of  the  final  sentence  I 
got  but  the  one  word,  "  buckshot." 

The  Spaniards  mounted  and  the  sound  of  their  spurs 
and  horses'  hoofs  soon  died  away  in  the  north,  and  I  lay 
for  half  an  hour  revolving  all  sorts  of  plans.  The  safest 
course  seemed  to  be  to  slip  out  in  the  darkness  and  fly 
on  foot  to  the  mountains,  abandoning  my  good  Kaweah ; 
but  I  thought  of  his  noble  run,  and  it  seemed  to  me  so 
wrong  to  turn  my  back  on  him  that  I  resolved  to  unite 
our  fate.  I  rose  cautiously,  and,  holding  my  watch  up  to 
the  moon,  found  that  twelve  o'clock  had  just  passed,  then 
taking  from  my  pocket  a  five-dollar  gold  piece,  I  laid  it 
upon  the  stand  by  my  bed,  and  in  my  stocking  feet,  with 
my  clothes  in  my  hands,  started  noiselessly  for  the  corral 
A  fierce  bull-dog,  who  had  shown  no  disposition  to  make 
friends  with  me,  bounded  from  the  open  door  of  the  pro- 
prietor to  my  side.  Instead  of  tearing  me,  as  I  had  ex- 
pected, he  licked  my  hands  and  fawned  about  my  feet. 

Eeaching  the  corral  gate,  I  dreaded  opening  it  at  once, 
remembering  the  rusty  hinges,  so  I  hung  my  clothes  upon 


KAWEAH'S  RUN.     *  131 

an  upper  bar  of  the  fence,  and,  cautiously  lifting  the 
latch,,  began  to  push  back  the  gate,  inch  by  inch,  an 
operation  which  required  me  eight  or  ten  minutes ;  then 
I  walked  up  to  Kaweah  and  patted  him.  His  manger 
was  empty ;  he  had  picked  up  the  last  kernel  of  barley. 
The  creature's  manner  was  full  of  curiosity,  as  if  he  had 
never  been  approached  in  the  night  before.  Suppressing 
his  ordinary  whinnying,  he  preserved  a  motionless,  statue- 
like silence.  I  was  in  terror  lest  by  a  neigh,  or  some 
nervous  movement,  he  should  waken  the  sleeping  pro- 
prietor and  expose  my  plan. 

The  corral  and  the  open  square  were  half  covered  with 
loose  stones,  and  when  I  thought  of  the  clatter  of 
Kaweah's  shoes  I  experienced  a  feeling  of  trouble,  and 
again  meditated  running  off  on  foot,  until  the  idea  struck 
me  of  muffling  the  iron  feet.  Ordinarily  Kaweah  would 
not  allow  me  to  lift  his  forefeet  at  all.  The  two  black- 
smiths who  shod  him  had  done  so  at  the  peril  of  their 
lives,  and  whenever  I  had  attempted  to  pick  up  his  hind 
feet  he  had  warned  me  away  by  dangerous  stamps  ;  so  I 
approached  him  very  timidly,  and  was  surprised  to  find 
that  he  allowed  me  to  lift  all  four  of  his  feet  without 
the  slightest  objection.  As  I  stooped  down  he  nosed  me 
over,  and  nibbled  playfully  at  my  hat.  In  constant  dread 
lest  he  should  make  some  noise,  I  hurried  to  muffle  his 
forefeet  with  my  trousers  and  shirt,  and  then,  with  rather 
more  care,  to  tie  upon  his  hind  feet  my  coat  and  drawers. 

Knowing  nothing  of  the  country  ahead  of  me,  and 
fearing  that  I  might  again  have  to  run  for  it,  I  determined 
at  aU  cost  to  water  him.  Groping  about  the  corral  and 
barn,  and  at  last  finding  a  bucket,  and  descending  through 
the  darkness  to  the  stream,  I  brought  him  a  full  draught, 
which  he  swallowed  eagerly,  when  I  tied  my  shoes  on  the 
saddle  pommel,  and  led  the  horse  slowly  out  of  the  corral 


132  MOUNTAINEERING   IN   THE    SIERRA   NEVADA. 

gate,  holding  him  firmly  by  the  bit,  and  feeling  his  ner- 
vous breath  pour  out  upon  my  hand. 

When  we  had  walked  perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  niile,  I 
stopped  and  listened.  All  was  quiet,  the  landscape  lying 
bright  and  distinct  in  full  moonlight.  I  unbound  the 
wrappings,  shook  from  them  as  much  dust  as  possible, 
dressed  myself,  and  then  mounting,  started  northward  on 
the  Mariposa  trail  with  cocked  pistol 

In  the  soft  dust  we  travelled  noiselessly  for  a  mile  or 
so,  passing  from  open  country  into  groves  of  oak  and 
thickets  of  chaparral 

Without  warning,  I  suddenly  came  upon  a  smoulder- 
ing fire  close  by  the  trail,  and  in  the  shadow  descried  two 
sleeping  forms,  one  stretched  on  his  back  snoring  heavily, 
the  other  lying  upon  his  face,  pillowing  his  head  upon 
folded  arms. 

I  held  my  pistol  aimed  at  one  of  the  wretches,  and 
rode  by  without  wakening  them,  guiding  Kaweah  in  the 
thickest  dust. 

It  keyed  me  up  to  a  high  pitch.  I  turned  around  in 
the  saddle,  leaving  Kaweah  to  follow  the  trail,  and  kept 
my  eyes  riveted  on  the  sleeping  forms,  until  they  were 
lost  in  distance,  and  then  I  felt  safe. 

We  galloped  over  many  miles  of  trail,  enjoying  a  sun- 
rise, and  came  at  last  to  Mariposa,  where  I  deposited  my 
gold,  and  then  went  to  bed  and  made  up  my  lost  sleep. 


AROUND   YOSEMITE  WALLS.  133 


VII. 

AEOUND  YOSEMITE  WALLS. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  October  5,  1864,  a  party 
of  us  reached  the  edge  of  Yosemite,  and,  looking  down 
into  the  valley,  saw  that  the  summer  haze  had  been  ban- 
ished from  the  region  by  autumnal  frosts  and  wind.  We 
looked  in  the  gulf  through  air  as  clear  as  a  vacuum,  dis- 
cerning small  objects  upon  valley-floor  and  cliff-front. 

That  splendid  afternoon  shadow  which  divides  the  face 
of  El  Capitan  was  projected  far  up  and  across  the  valley, 
cutting  it  in  halves,  —  one  a  mosaic  of  russets  and  yellows 
with  dark  pine  and  glimpse  of  white  river ;  the  other  a 
cobalt-blue  zone,  in  which  the  famiHar  groves  and  mead- 
ows were  suffused  with  shadow-tones.  It  is  hard  to  con- 
ceive a  more  pointed  contrast  than  this  same  view  in 
October  and  June.  Then,  through  a  slumberous  yet 
transparent  atmosphere,  you  look  down  upon  emerald 
freshness  of  green,  upon  arrowy  rush  of  swollen  river,  and 
here  and  there,  along  pearly  cliffs,  as  from  the  clouds, 
tumbles  white  silver  dust  of  cataracts.  The  voice  of  full 
soft  winds  swells  up  over  rustling  leaves,  and,  pulsating, 
throbs  like  the  beating  of  far-off  surf.  All  stern  sub- 
limity, all  geological  terribleness,  are  veiled  away  behind 
magic  curtains  of  cloud-shadow  and  broken  light.  Misty 
brightness,  glow  of  cliff  and  sparkle  of  foam,  wealth  of 
beautiful  details,  the  charm  of  pearl  and  emerald,  cool 
gulfs  of  violet  shade  stretching  back  in  deep  recesses  of 
the  walls,  —  these  are  the  features  which  lie  under  the 
June  sky. 


134  MOUNTAINEERING  IN   THE   SIEREA  NEVADA. 

Now  all  that  has  gone.  The  shattered  fronts  of  walls 
stand  out  sharp  and  terrible,  sweeping  down  in  broken 
crag  and  cliff  to  a  valley  whereon  the  shadow  of  autumnal 
death  has  left  its  solemnity.  There  is  no  longer  an  air  of 
beauty.  In  this  cold,  naked  streng-th,  one  has  crowded  on 
him  the  geological  record  of  mountain  work,  of  granite 
plateau  suddenly  rent  asunder,  of  the  slow,  imperfect 
manner  in  which  Nature  has  vainly  striven  to  smooth  her 
rough  v^ork  and  bury  the  ruins  with  thousands  of  years' 
accumulation  of  soil  and  debris. 

Already  late,  we  hurried  to  descend  the  trail,  and  were 
still  following  it  when  darkness  overtook  us ;  but  our- 
selves and  the  animals  were  so  well  acquainted  with  every 
turn,  that  we  found  no  difficulty  in  continuing  our  way  to 
Longhurst's  house,  and  here  we  camped  for  the  night. 

By  an  Act  of  Congress  the  Yosemite  Valley  had  been 
segregated  from  the  public  domain,  and  given —  "  do- 
nated," as  they  call  it — to  the  State  of  California,  to  be 
held  inalienable  for  aU  time  as  a  public  pleasure-ground. 
The  Commission  into  whose  hands  this  trust  devolved, 
had  sent  Mr.  Gardner  and  myself  to  make  a  survey  de- 
fining the  boundaries  of  the  new  grant.  It  was  necessary 
to  execute  this  work  before  the  Legislature  should  meet 
in  December,  and  we  undertook  the  work,  knowing  very 
well  that  we  must  use  the  utmost  haste  in  order  to  escape 
a  three  months'  imprisonment,  —  for  in  early  winter  the 
immense  Sierra  snow-falls  would  close  the  doors  of 
mountain  trails,  and  we  should  be  unable  to  reach  the 
lowlands  until  the  following  spring. 

The  party  consisted  of  my  companion,  Mr.  Gardner; 
Mr,  Frederick  A.  Clark,  who  had  been  detailed  from  the 
service  of  the  Mariposa  Company  to  assist  us  ;  Longhurst, 
an  habitue  of  the  valley,  —  a  weather-beaten  round-the- 
worlder,  whose  function  in  the  party  was  to  tell  yarns, 


ABOUND   YOSEMITE   WALLS.  135 

sing  songs/and  feed  the  inner  man  ;  Cotter  and  Wilmer, 
chainmen ;  and  two  mules,  —  one  who  was  blind,  and  the 
other  who,  I  aver,  would  have  discharged  his  duty  very- 
much  better  without  eyes. 

We  had  chosen,  as  the  head-quarters  of  the  survey, 
two  little  cabins  under  the  pine-trees  near  Black's  Hotel. 
They  were  central ;  they  offered  us  a  shelter ;  and  from 
their  doors,  which  opened  almost  upon  the  Merced  it- 
self, we  obtained  a  most  delightful  sunrise  view  of  the 
Yosemite. 

Next  morning,  in  spite  of  early  outcries  from  Long- 
hurst,  and  a  warning  solo  of  liis  performed  with  spoon 
and  fry-pan,  we  lay  in  our  comfortable  blankets  pretend- 
ing to  enjoy  the  effect  of  sunrise  light  upon  the  Yosemite 
cliff  and  fall,  all  of  us  unwilling  to  own  that  we  were 
tired  out  and  needed  rest.  Breakfast  had  waited  an  hour 
or  more  when  we  got  a  little  weary  of  beds  and  yielded 
to  the  temptation  of  appetite. 

A  family  of  Indians,  consisting  of  two  huge  girls  and 
their  parents,  sat  silently  waiting  for  us  to  commence, 
and,  after  we  had  begun,  watched  every  mouthful  from 
the  moment  we  got  it  successfully  impaled  upon  the 
camp  forks,  a  cloud  darkening  their  faces  as  it  disappeared 
forever  down  our  throats. 

But  we  quite  lost  our  spectators  when  Longhurst  came 
upon  the  boards  as  a  flapjack-frier,  —  a  role  to  which 
he  bent  his  whole  intelligence,  and  with  entire  success. 
Scorning  such  vulgar  accomplishment  as  turning  the  cake 
over  in  iiiid-air,  he  slung  it  boldly  up,  turning  it  three 
times,  —  ostentatiously  greasing  the  pan  with  a  fine  cen- 
trifugal movement,  and  catching  the  flapjack  as  it  flut- 
tered down,  —  and  spanked  it  upon  the  hot  coals  with  a 
touch  at  once  graceful  and  masterly. 

I  failed  to  enjoy  these  products,  feeling  as  if  I  were 


136  MOUNTAINEEEING  IN  THE  SIERRA  NEVADA. 

breakfasting  in  sacrilege  upon  works  of  art.  Not  so  our 
Indian  friends,  who  wrestled  affectionately  for  frequent 
unfortunate  cakes  which  would  dodge  Longhurst  and  fall 
into  the  ashes. 

By  night  we  had  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  northern 
wall,  camping  at  the  head-waters  of  a  small  brook,  named 
by  emotional  Mr.  Hutchings,  I  believe,  the  Virgin's  Tears, 
because  from  time  to  time  from  under  the  brow  of  a  cliff 
just  south  of  El  Capitan  there  may  be  seen  a  feeble  water- 
fall. I  suspect  this  sentimental  pleasantry  is  intended  to 
bear  some  relation  to  the  Bridal  Veil  Fall  opposite. 
If  it  has  any  such  force  at  all,  it  is  a  melancholy  one, 
given  by  unusual  gauntness  and  an  aged  aspect,  and  by 
the  few  evanescent  tears  which  this  old  virgin  sheds. 

A  charming  camp-ground  was  formed  by  bands  of 
russet  meadow  wandering  in  vistas  through  a  stately 
forest  of  dark  green  fir-trees  unusually  feathered  to  the 
base.  Little  mahogany-colored  pools  surrounded  with 
sphagnum  lay  in  the  meadows,  offering  pleasant  contrast 
of  color.  Our  camp-ground  was  among  clumps  of  thick 
firs,  which  completely  walled  in  the  fire,  and  made  close 
overhanging  shelters  for  table  and  beds. 

Gardner,  Cotter,  and  I  felt  thankful  to  our  thermom- 
eter for  owning  up  frankly  the  chill  of  the  next  morn- 
ing, as  we  left  a  generous  camp-fire  and  marched  ofC 
through  fir  forest  and  among  brown  meadows  and  bare 
ridges  of  rock  toward  El  Capitan.  This  grandest  of 
granite  precipices  is  capped  by  a  sort  of  forehead  of  stone 
sweeping  down  to  level,  severe  brows,  which  jut  out  a 
few  feet  over  the  edge.  A  few  weather-beaten,  battle- 
twisted,  and  black  pines  cling  in  clefts,  contrasting  in 
force  with  the  solid  white  stone. 

We  hung  our  barometer  upon  a  stunted  tree  quite  near 
the  brink,  and,  climbing  cautiously  down,  stretched  our- 


AROUNf)   YOSEMITE  WALLS.  137 

selves  out  upon  an  overhanging  block  of  granite,  and 
looked  over  into  the  Yosemite  Valley. 

The  rock  fell  under  us  in  one  sheer  sweep  thirty-two 
hundred  feet ;  upon  its  face  we  could  trace  the  lines  of 
fracture  and  all  prominent  lithological  changes.  Directly 
beneath,  outspread  like  a  delicately  tinted  cliart,  lay  the 
lovely  park  of  Yosemite,  winding  in  and  out  about  the 
solid  white  feet  of  precipices  which  sunk  into  it  on  either 
side;  its  sunlit  surface  invaded  by  the  shadow  of  the 
south  wall ;  its  spires  of  pine,  open  expanses  of  buff  and 
drab  meadow,  and  families  of  umber  oaks  rising  as  back- 
ground for  the  vivid  green  river-margin  and  flaming 
orange  masses  of  frosted  cottonwood  foliage. 

Deep  in  front  the  Bridal  Veil  brook  made  its  way 
through  the  bottom  of  an  open  gorge  and  plunged  off  the 
edge  of  a  thousand-foot  cliff,  falling  in  white  water-dust 
and  drifting  in  pale  translucent  clouds  out  over  the  tree- 
tops  of  the  valley. 

Directly  opposite  us,  and  forming  the  other  gate-post 
of  the  valley's  entrance,  rose  the  great  mass  of  Cathe- 
dral Eocks,  —  a  group  quite  suggestive  of  the  Florence 
Duomo. 

But  our  grandest  view  was  eastward,  above  the  deep 
sheltered  valley  and  over  the  tops  of  those  terrible  granite 
walls,  out  upon  rolling  ridges  of  stone  and  wonderful 
granite  domes.  Nothing  in  the  whole  list  of  irruptive 
products,  except  volcanoes  themselves,  is  so  wonderfid  as 
these  domed  mountains.  They  are  of  every  variety  of 
conoidal  form,  having  horizontal  sections  accurately  ellip- 
tical, ovoid,  or  circular,  and  profiles  varying  from  such 
semicircles  as  the  cap  behind  the  Sentinel  to  the  grace- 
ful infinite  curves  of  the  North  Dome.  Above  and  be- 
yond these  stretch  back  long  bare  ridges  connecting  with 
sunny  summit  peaks. 


138  MOUNTAINEEEING  IN  THE   SIERKA  NEVADA. 

The  whole  region  is  one  solid  granite  mass,  with  here 
and  there  shallow  soil  layers,  and  a  thin  variable  forest 
wliich  grows  in  picturesque  mode,  defining  the  leading 
lines  of  erosion  as  an  artist  deepens  here  and  there  a  line 
to  hint  at  some  structural  peculiarity. 

A  complete  physical  exposure  of  the  range,  from  sum- 
mit to  base,  lay  before  us.  At  one  extreme  stand  sharpened 
peaks,  white  in  fretwork  of  glistening  ice-bank,  or  black 
where  tower  straight  bolts  of  snowless  rock ;  at  the  other 
stretch  away  plains  smiling  with  a  broad  honest  brown 
under  autumn  sunlight.  They  are  not  quite  lovable  even 
in  distant  tranquillity  of  hue,  and  just  escape  being  inter- 
esting in  spite  of  their  familiar  rivers  and  associated  belts, 
of  oaks.  jSTothing  can  ever  render  them  quite  charming, 
for  in  the  startling  splendor  of  flower-clad  April  you  are 
surfeited  with  an  embarrassment  of  beauty,  at  all  other 
times  stunned  by  their  poverty.  Not  so  the  summits; 
forever  new,  full  of  individuality,  rich  in  detail,  and 
coloring  themselves  anew  under  every  cloud  change  or 
hue  of  heaven,  they  lay  you  under  their  spell. 

From  them  the  eye  comes  back  over  granite  waves  and 
domes  to  the  sharp  precipice-edges  overhanging  Yosemite. 
We  look  down  those  vast,  hard,  granite  fronts,  cracked 
and  splintered,  scarred  and  stained,  down  over  gorges 
crammed  with  debris,  or  dark  with  files  of  climbing  pines. 
Lower  the  precipice-feet  are  wrapped  in  meadow  and 
grove,  and  beyond,  level  and  sunlit,  lies  the  floor, — 
that  smooth  river-cut  park,  with  exquisite  perfection 
of  finish. 

The  dome-like  cap  of  Capitan  is  formed  of  concentric 
layers  like  the  peels  of  an  onion,  each  one  about  two  or 
three  feet  thick.  Upon  the  precipice  itself,  either  from 
our  station  on  an  overhanging  crevice,  or  from  any  point 
of  opposite  cliff  or  valley  bottom,  this  structure  is  seen 


AROUND   YOSEMITE   WALLS.  139 

to  be  superficial,  never  descending  more  than  a  hundred 
feet. 

In  returning  to  camp  we  followed  a  main  ridge,  smooth 
and  white  under  foot,  but  shaded  by  groves  of  alpine  firs. 
Trees  which  here  reach  mature  stature,  and  in  apparent 
health,  stand  rooted  in  white  gravel,  resulting  from  sur- 
face decomposition.  I  am  sure  their  foliage  is  darker 
than  can  be  accounted  for  by  effect  of  white  contrasting 
earth.  Wherever,  in  deep  depressions,  enough  wash  soil 
and  vegetable  mould  have  accumulated,  there  the  trees 
gather  in  thicker  groups,  lift  themselves  higher,  spread 
out  more  and  finer  feathered  branches  ;  sometimes,  how- 
ever, richness  of  soil  and  perfection  of  condition  prove 
fatal  through  overcrowding.  They  are  wonderfully  like 
human  communities.  One  may  trace  in  an  hour's  walk 
nearly  all  the  laws  which  govern  the  physical  life  of 
men. 

Upon  reaching  camp  we  found  Longhurst  in  a  deep 
religious  calm,  happy  in  his  mind,  happy,  too,  in  the  pos- 
ture of  his  body,  which  was  reclining  at  ease  upon  a  com- 
fortable blanket-pile  before  the  fire  ;  a  verse  of  the  hymn 
"  Coronation  "  escaped  murmurously  from  his  lips,  rising 
at  times  in  shaky  crescendos,  accompanied  by  a  waving 
and  desultory  movement  of  the  forefinger.  He  had  found 
among  our  medicines  a  black  bottle  of  brandy,  contrived 
to  induce  a  mule  to  break  it,  and,  just  to  save  as  much  as 
possible  while  it  was  leaking,  drank  with  freedom.  An- 
ticip^fting  any  possible  displeasure  of  ours,  Longhurst  had 
collected  his  wits  and  arrived  at  a  most  excellent  dinner, 
crowning  the  repast  with  a  duff,  accurately  globular,  neatly 
brecciated  with  abundant  raisins,  and  drowned  with  a 
foaming  sauce,  to  which  the  last  of  the  brandy  imparted 
an  almost  pathetic  flavor. 

The  evening  closed  with  moral  remark  and  spiritual 


140  ]\IOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

song  from  Longhurst,  and  the  morning  introduced  us  to 
our  prosaic  labor  of  running  the  boundary  line,  —  a  task 
which  consumed  several  weeks,  and  occupied  nearly  all  of 
our  days.  I  once  or  twice  found  time  to  go  down  to  the 
cliff-edges  again  for  the  purpose  of  making  my  geological 
studies. 

An  excursion  which  Cotter  and  I  made  to  the  top  of 
the  Three  Brothers  proved  of  interest.  A  half-hour's 
walk  from  camp,  over  rolling  granite  country,  brought  us 
to  a  ridge  which  jutted  boldly  out  from  the  plateau  to  the 
edge  of  the  Yosemite  wall.  Upon  the  southern  side  of 
this  eminence  heads  a  broad  tZe^Ws-filled  ravine,  which 
descends  to  the  valley  bottom ;  upon  the  other  side  the 
ridge  sends  down  its  waters  along  a  steep  declivity  into 
a  lovely  mountain  basin,  wdiere,  surrounded  by  forest, 
spreads  out  a  level  expanse  of  emerald  meadow,  with  a 
bit  of  blue  lakelet  in  the  midst.  The  outlet  of  this  little 
valley  is  through  a  narrow  rift  in  the  rocks  leading  down 
into  the  Yosemite  fall.  Along  the  crest  of  our  juttisg 
ridge  we  found  smooth  pathway,  and  soon  reached  the 
summit.  Here  again  we  were  upon  the  verge  of  a  preci- 
pice, this  time  four  thousand  two  hundred  feet  high. 
Beneath  us  the  whole  upper  half  of  the  valley  was  as 
clearly  seen  as  the  southern  half  had  been  from  Capi- 
tan.  The  sinuosities  of  the  ]\Ierced,  those  narrow  silvery 
gleams  which  indicated  the  channel  of  the  Yosemite 
creek,  the  broad  expanse  of  meadow,  and  debris  trains 
which  had  bounded  down  the  Sentinel  slope,  were  all 
laid  out  under  us;  though  diminished  by  immense  depth. 

The  loftiest  and  most  magnificent  parts  of  the  walls 
crowded  in  a  semicircle  in  front  of  us  ;  above  them  the 
domes,  lifted  even  higher  than  ourselves,  swept  down  to 
the  precipice-edges.  Directly  to  our  left  we  overlooked 
the  goblet-like  recess  into  which  the  Yosemite  tumbles, 


AROUND  YOSEMITE  WALLS.  141 

and  could  see  the  white  torrent  leap  through  its  granite 
lip,  disappearing  a  thousand  feet  below,  hidden  from  our 
view  by  projecting  crags ;  its  roar  floating  up  to  us,  now 
resounding  loudly,  and  again  dying  off  in  faint  reverbera- 
tions like  the  sounding  of  the  sea. 

Looking  up  upon  the  falls  from  the  valley  below,  one 
utterly  fails  to  realize  the  great  depth  of  the  semicir- 
cular alcove  into  which  it  descends. 

Looking  back  at  El  Capitan,  its  sharp  vertical  front  was 
projected  against  far  blue  foot-hills,  the  creamy  whiteness 
of  sunlit  granite  cut  upon  aerial  distance,  clouds  and 
cold  blue  sky  shutting  down  over  white  crest  and  jetty. 
pine-plumes,  which  gather  helmet-like  upon  its  upper 
dome.  Perspective  effects  are  marvellously  brought  out 
by  the  stern,  powerful  reality  of  such  rock  bodies  as 
Capitan,  Across  their  terrible  blade-like  precipice-edges 
you  look  on  and  down  over  vistas  of  canon  and  green 
hill-swells,  the  dark  color  of  pine  and  fir  broken  by  bare 
spots  of  harmonious  red  or  brown,  and  changing  with 
distance  into  purple,  then  blue,  which  reaches  on  farther 
into  the  brown  monotonous  plains.  Beyond,  where  the 
earth's  curve  defines  its  horizon,  dim  serrations  of  Coast 
Eange  loom  indistinctly  on  the  hazy  air.  From  here 
those  remarkable  fracture  results,  the  Eoyal  Arches,  a 
series  of  recesses  carved  into  the  granite  front,  beneath 
the  North  Dome,  are  seen  in  their  true  proportions. 

The  concentric  structure  which  covers  the  dome  with  a 
series  of  plates  penetrates  to  a  greater  depth  than  usual. 
The  Arches  themselves  are  only  fractured  edges  of  these 
plates,  resulting  from  the  intersection  of  a  cliff-plane 
with  the  conoidal  shells. 

We  had  seen  the  Merced  group  of  snow-peaks  hereto- 
fore from  the  west,  but  now  gained  a  more  oblique  view, 
which  began  to  bring  out  the  thin  obelisk  form  of  Mount 


142  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

Clark,  a  shape  of  great  interest  from  its  marvellous  thin- 
ness. Mount  Starr  King,  too,  swelled  up  to  its  command- 
ing height,  the  most  elevated  of  the  domes. 

Looking  in  the  direction  of  the  Half-Dome,  I  was  con- 
stantly impressed  with  the  inclination  of  the  walls,  with 
the  fact  that  they  are  never  vertical  for  any  great  depth. 
This  is  observed,  too,  remarkably,  in  the  case  of  El  Capi- 
tan,  whose  apparently  vertical  profile  is  very  slant,  the 
actual  base  standing  twelve  hundred  feet  in  advance  of 
the  brow. 

For  a  week  the  boundary  survey  was  continued  north- 
east and  parallel  to  the  cliff  wall,  about  a  mile  back  from 
its  brink,  following  through  forests  and  crossing  granite 
spurs  until  we  reached  the  summit  of  that  high  bare 
chain  which  divides  the  Virgin's  Tears  from  Yosemite 
Creek,  and  which,  projecting  southward,  ends  in  the  Three 
Brothers.  East  of  this  the  declivity  falls  so  rapidly  to 
the  valley  of  the  upper  Yosemite  Creek  that  chaining  was 
impossible,  and  we  were  obliged  to  throw  our  line  across 
the  canon,  a  little  over  a  mile,  by  triangulation.  This 
completed,  we  resumed  it  on  the  North  Dome  spur,  trans- 
ferring our  camp  to  a  bit  of  alpine  meadow  south  of  the 
]\Iono  trail,  and  but  a  short  distance  from  the  North 
Dome  itself. 

After  the  line  was  finished  here,  and  a  system  of  tri- 
angles determined  by  which  we  connected  our  northern 
points  with  those  across  the  chasm  of  the  Yosemite,  we 
made  several  geological  excursions  along  the  cliffs,  study- 
ing the  granite  structure,  working  out  its  lithological 
changes,  and  devoting  ourselves  especially  to  the  system 
of  moraines  and  glacier  marks  which  indicate  direction 
and  volume  of  the  old  ice-flow. 

An  excursion  to  the  summit  of  the  North  Dome  was 
exceedingly  interesting.     From  the  rear  of  our  camp  we 


AROUND  yosp:mite  walls.  143 

entered  immediately  a  dense  forest  of  conifers,  wliicli 
stretcli  southward  along  the  summit  of  the  ridge  until 
solid  granite,  arresting  erosion,  afforded  but  little  foot- 
hold. As  usual,  among  the  cracks,  and  clinging  round 
the  bases  of  boulders,  a  few  hardy  pines  manage  to  live, 
almost  to  thrive ;  but  as  we  walked  groups  became  scarcer, 
trees  less  healthy,  all  at  last  giving  way  to  bare  soM 
stone.  The  North  Dome  itself,  which  is  easily  reached, 
affords  an  impressive  view  up  the  lUilluette  and  across 
upon  the  fissured  front  of  the  Half-Dome.  It  is  also  one 
of  the  most  interesting  specimens  of  conoidal  structure, 
since  its  mass  is  not  only  divided  by  large  spherical  shells, 
but  each  of  these  is  subdivided  by  a  number  of  lesser 
divisional  planes.  ISTo  lithological  change  is,  however, 
noticeable  between  the  different  shells.  The  granite  is 
composed  chiefly  of  orthoclase,  transparent  vitreous 
quartz,  and  about  an  equal  proportion  of  black  mica  and 
hornblende.  Here  and  there  adularia  occurs,  and,  very 
sparingly,  albite. 

With  no  difficulty,  but  some  actual  danger,  I  climbed 
down  a  smooth  granite  roof-slope  to  wh'cre  the  precipice 
of  Eoyal  Arches  makes  off,  and  where,  lying  upon  a 
sharp  neatly  fractured  edge,  I  was  able  to  look  down  and 
study  those  purple  markings  which  are  vertically  striped 
upon  so  many  of  these  granite  cliffs.  I  found  them  to 
be  bands  of  lichen  growth  which  follow  the  curves  of 
occasional  water-flow.  During  any  great  rain-storm,  and 
wdien  snow  upon  the  uplands  is  suddenly  melted,  innu- 
merable streams,  many  of  them  of  considerable  volume, 
find  their  way  to  the  precipice-edge,  and  pour  down  its 
front.  "Wherever  this  is  the  case,  a  deep  purple  lichen 
spreads  itself  upon  the  granite,  and  forms  those  dark 
cloudings  which  add  so  greatly  to  the  variety  and  in- 
terest of  the  cliffs. 


144  MOUNTAINEERING  IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

I  found  it  extremest  pleasure  to  lie  there  alone  on  the 
dizzy  brink,  studying  the  fine  sculpture  of  cliff  and  crag, 
overlooking  the  arrangement  of  cUhris  piles,  and  watching 
that  slow  grand  growth  of  afternoon  shadows.  Sunset 
found  me  there,  still  disinclined  to  stir,  and  repaid  my 
laziness  by  a  glorious  spectacle  of  color.  At  this  hour 
there  is  no  more  splendid  contrast  of  light  and  shade  than 
one  sees  upon  the  western  gateway  itself,  —  dark-shadowed 
Capitan  upon  one  side  profiled  against  the  sunset  sky,  and 
the  yellow  mass  of  Cathedral  Eocks  rising  opposite  in  full 
light,  while  the  valley  is  divided  equally  between  sun- 
shine and  shade.  Pine  groves  and  oaks,  almost  black 
in  the  shadow,  are  brightened  up  to  clear  red-browns 
where  they  pass  out  upon  the  lighted  plain.  The  Merced, 
upon  its  mirror-like  expanses,  here  reflects  deep  blue 
from  Capitan,  and  there  the  warm  Cathedral  gold.  The 
last  sunlight  reflected  from  some  curious  smooth  surfaces 
upon  rocks  east  of  the  Sentinel,  and  about  a  thousand 
feet  above  the  valley.  I  at  once  suspected  them  to  be 
glacier  marks,  and  bo'oked  them  for  further  observation. 

My  next  excursion  was  up  to  Mount  Hoffmann,  among 
a  group  of  snow-fields,  whose  drainage  gathers  at  last 
through  lakes  and  brooklets  to  a  single  brook  (the  Yosem- 
ite),  and  flows  twelve  miles  in  a  broad  arc  to  its  plunge 
over  into  the  valley.  From  the  summit,  which  is  of  a 
remarkably  bedded  conoidal  mass  of  gTanite,  sharply  cut 
down  in  precipices  fronting  the  north,  is  obtained  a  broad 
commanding  view  of  Sierras  from  afar,  by  the  heads  of 
several  San  Joaquin  branches,  up  to  the  ragged  volcanic 
piles  about  Silver  Mountain. 

From  the  top  I  climbed  along  slopes,  and  down  by  a 
wide  detour  among  frozen  snow-banks  and  many  little 
basins  of  transparent  blue  water,  amid  black  shapes  of 
stunted  fir,  and  over  the  confused  wreck  of  rock  and  tree- 


AROUND   YOSEMITE   WALLS.  145 

trunk  thrown  rudely  in  jDiles  by  avalanches  whose  tracks 
were  fresh  enough  to  be  of  interest. 

Upon  reaching  the  bottom  of  a  broad,  open  glacier- 
valley,  through  whose  middle  flows  the  Yosemite  Creek 
and  its  branches,  I  was  surprised  to  find  the  streams 
nearly  all  dry ;  that  the  snow  itself,  under  influence  of 
cold,  was  a  solid  ice  mass,  and  the  Yosemite  Creek,  even 
after  I  had  followed  it  doAvn  for  miles,  had  entirely  ceased 
to  flow.  At  intervals  the  course  of  the  stream  was  car- 
ried over  slopes  of  glacier-worn  granite,  ending  almost 
uniformly  in  shallow  rock  basins,  where  were  considera- 
ble ponds  of  water,  in  one  or  two  instances  expanding 
to  the  dignity  of  lakelets. 

The  valley  describes  an  arc  whose  convexity  is  in  the 
main  turned  to  the  west,  the  stream  running  nearly  due 
west  for  about  four  miles,  turning  gradually  to  the  south- 
w^ard,  and,  having  crossed  the  Mono  trail,  bending  again 
to  the  southeast,  after  which  it  discharges  over  the  verge 
of  the  cliff.  An  average  breadth  of  this  valley  is  about 
half  a  mile  ;  its  form  a  shallow  elliptical  trough,  rendered 
unusually  smooth  by  the  erosive  action  of  old  glaciers. 
Roches  moutonnecs  break  its  surface  here  and  there,  but  in 
general  the  gTanite  has  been  planed  down  into  remarka- 
ble smoothness.  All  along  its  course  a  varying  rubbish 
of  angular  boulders  has  been  left  by  the  retiring  ice, 
whose  material,  like  that  of  the  whole  country,  is  of  gran- 
ite ;  but  I  recognized  prominently  black  sienitic  granite 
from  the  summit  of  Mount  Hoffmann,  which,  from  superior 
hardness,  has  withstood  disintegration,  and  is  perliaps  the 
most  frequent  material  of  glacier-blocks.  The  surface 
modelling  is  often  of  the  most  finished  type ;  especially  is 
this  the  case  wherever  the  granite  is  highly  silicious,  its 
polish  becoming  then  as  brilliant  as  a  marble  mantel.  In 
very  feldspathic  portions,  and  particularly  wliere  ortho- 
7  J 


146  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

clase  predominates,  the  polished  surface  becomes  a  crust, 
usually  about  three  quarters  of.  an  inch  thick,  in  which 
the  ordinary  appearance  of  the  minerals  has  been  some- 
what changed,  the  rock-surface  by  long  pressure  rendered 
extremely  dense,  and  in  a  measure  separated  from  the 
underlying  material.  This  smooth  crust  is  constantly 
breaking  off  in  broad  flakes.  The  polishing  extended  up 
the  valley  sides  to  a  height  of  about  seven  hundred  feet. 
The  average  section  of  the  old  glacier  was  perhaps  six 
hundred  feet  thick  by  half  a  mile  in  width.  I  followed 
its  whole  course  from  INIount  Hoffmann  down  as  far  as  I 
could  ride,  and  then  tying  my  horse  only  a  little  way  from 
the  brink  of  the  cliff  I  continued  downward  on  foot,  walk- 
ing upon  the  dry  stream-bed.  I  found  here  and  there  a 
deep  pit-hole,  sometimes  twenty  feet  deep,  was  carved  in 
mid-channel,  and  was  often  full  of  water.  Just  before 
reaching  the  cliff  verge  the  stream  enters  a  narrow,  sharp 
cut  about  one  hundred  and  twenty  feet  in  depth,  and  prob- 
ably not  over  thirty  feet  wide.  The  bottom  and  sides  of  this 
granite  lip,  here  and  there,  are  evidently  glacier-polished, 
but  the  greater  part  of  the  scorings  have  been  worn  away 
by  the  attrition  of  sands.  A  peculiar  brilliant  polish, 
which  may  be  seen  there  to-day,  is  wholly  the  result  of 
recent  sand  friction. 

It  was  noon  when  I  reached  the  actual  lip,  and  crept 
with  extreme  caution  down  over  smooth  rounded  granite, 
between  towering  walls,  to  where  the  Yosemite  Fall 
makes  its  wonderful  leap.  Polished  rock  curved  over  too 
dangerously  for  me  to  lean  out  and  look  down  over  the 
cliff-front  itself.  A  stone  gate  dazzlingiy  gilded  with  sun- 
light formed  the  frame  through  which  I  looked  down  upon 
that  lovely  valley. 

Contrast  with  the  strength  of  yellow  rock  and  severe 
adamantine  sculpture  threw  over  the  landscape  beyond  a 


AROUND   YOSEMITE   WALLS.  147 

strange  unreality,  a  soft  aerial  depth  of  purple  tone  quite 
as  new  to  me  as  it  w^as  beautiful  beyond  description. 
There,  twenty-six  hundred  feet  below,  lay  meadow  and 
river,  oak  and  pine,  and  a  broad  shadow-zone  cast  by  the 
opposite  wall.  Over  it  all,  even  through  the  dark  sky 
overhead,  there  seemed  to  be  poured  some  absolute  color, 
some  purple  air,  hiding  details,  and  veiling  with  its  soft 
amethystine  obscurity  all  that  hard,  broken  roughness  of 
the  Sentinel  cliffs.  In  this  strange,  vacant,  stone  corridor, 
this  pathway  for  the  great  Yosemite  torrent,  this  sound- 
ing-gallery of  thunderous  tumult,  it  was  a  strange  sensa- 
tion to  stand,  looking  in  vain  for  a  drop  of  water,  listening 
vainly,  too,  for  the  faintest  whisper  of  sound,  and  I  found 
myself  constantly  expecting  some  sign  of  the  returning 
flood. 

From  the  lip  I  climbed  a  high  point  just  to  the  east, 
getting  a  grand  view  down  the  cliff,  where  a  broad  purple 
band  defined  the  Yosemite  spray  line.  There,  too,- 1  found 
unmistakable  ice-strise,  showing  that  the  glacier  of  Mount 
Hoffmann  had  actually  poured  over  the  brink.  At  the 
moments  of  such  discovery,  one  cannot  help  restoring  in 
imagination  pictures  of  the  past.  When  we  stand  by 
river-bank  or  meadow  of  that  fair  valley,  looking  up  at 
the  torrent  falling  bright  under  fulness  of  light,  and 
lovely  in  its  graceful  wind-swayed  airiness,  we  are  apt 
to  feel  its  enchantment;  but  how  immeasurably  grander 
must  it  have  been  when  the  gTeat,  living,  moving  glacier, 
with  slow  invisible  motion,  crowded  its  huge  body  over 
the  brink,  and  launched  blue  ice-blocks  down  through 
the  foam  of  the  cataract  into  that  gulf  of  wild  rocks  and 
eddying  mist! 

The  one-eyed  mule,  Bonaparte,  I  found  tied  where  I 
had  left  him ;  and,  as  usual,  I  approached  him  upon  his 
blind  side,  able  thus  to  get  successfully  into  my  saddle. 


148  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

without  danger  to  life  or  limb.  I  could  never  become 
attached  to  the  creature,  although  he  carried  me  faith- 
fully many  difficult  and  some  dangerous  miles,  and  for 
the  reason  that  he  made  a  pretext  of  his  half-blindness 
to  commit  excesses,  such  as  crowding  me  against  trees  and 
refusing^  to  follow  trails.  Eealizingf  how  terrible  under 
reinforcement  of  hereditary  transmission  the  peculiarly 
mulish  traits  would  have  become,  one  is  more  than  thank- 
ful to  Nature  for  depriving  this  singular  hybrid  of  the 
capacity  of  handing  them  down. 

Eather  tired,  and  not  a  little  bruised  by  untimely  col- 
lision with  trees,  I  succeeded  at  last  in  navigating  Bona- 
parte safely  to  camp,  and  turning  him  over  to  his  fellow, 
Pumpkinseed. 

The  niglits  were  already  very  cold,  our  beds  on  frozen 
ground  none  of  the  most  comfortable ;  in  fact,  enthusiasm 
had  quite  as  much  to  do  with  our  content  as  the  blankets 
or  Longhurst's  culinary  art,  which,  enclosed  now  by  the 
narrow  limit  of  bacon,  bread,  and  beans,  failed  to  produce 
such  dainties  as  thrice-turned  slapjacks  or  plum-duffs 
of  solemnizing  memory. 

One  more  geological  trip  finished  my  examination  of 
this  side  of  the  great  valley.  It  was  a  two  days'  ramble 
all  over  the  granite  ridges,  from  the  North  Dome  up  to 
Lake  Tenaya,  during  which  I  gathered  ample  evidence 
that  a  broad  sheet  of  glacier,  partly  derived  from  Mount 
Hoffmann  and  in  part  from  the  Mount  Watkins  Eidge 
and  Cathedral  Peak,  but  mainly  from  the  great  Tuolumne 
glacier,  gathered  and  flowed  down  into  the  Yosemite  Val- 
ley. Where  it  moved  over  the  cliffs  there  are  well-pre- 
served scarrings.  The  facts  which  attest  this  are  open  to 
observation,  and  seem  to  me  important  in  making  up  a 
statement  of  past  conditions. 

We  were  glad  to  get  back  at  last  to  our  two  little  cabins 


AROUND   YOSEIVIITE  WALLS.  149 

in  the  valley,  although  our  serio-comic  hangers-on,  the 
Diggers,  were  gone,  and  the  great  fall  was  dry. 

A  rest  of  one  day  proved  refreshing  enough  for  us  to 
leave  camp  and  ascend  by  Mariposa  trail  to  Meadow 
Brook,  where  we  made  a  bivouac,  from  which  Gardner  be- 
gan his  southern  boundary  line,  and  I  renewed  my  geo- 
logical studies  east  of  Inspiration  Point. 

I  always  go  swiftly  by  this  famous  point  of  view  now, 
feeling  somehow  that  I  don't  belong  to  that  army  of  literary 
travellers  who  have  here  planted  themselves  and  burst  into 
rhetoric.  Here  all  who  make  California  books,  down  to 
the  last  and  most  sentimental  specimen  who  so  much  as 
meditates  a  letter  to  his  or  her  local  paper,  dismount  and 
inflate.  If  those  firs  could  recite  half  the  droll  mots  they 
have  listened  to,  or  if  I  dared  tell  half  the  delicious  points 
I  treasure,  it  would  sound  altogether  too  amusing  among 
these  dry-enough  chapters. 

I  had  always  felt  a  desire  to  examine  Bridal  Veil  canon 
and  the  southwest  Cathedral  slope.  Accordingly  one  fine 
morning  I  set  out  alone,  and  descended  through  chaparral 
and  over  rough  debris  slopes  to  the  stream,  which  at  this 
time,  unlike  the  other  upland  brooks,  flowed  freely,  though 
with  far  less  volume  than  in  summer.  At  this  altitude 
only  such  streams  as  derive  their  volume  wholly  from 
melting  snow  dry  up  in  the  cold  autumnal  and  winter 
months ;  spring-fed  brooks  hold  their  own,  and  rather  in- 
crease as  cold  weather  advances. 

It  was  a  wild  gorge  down  which  I  tramped,  following 
the  stream-bed,  often  jumping  from  block  to  block,  or  let- 
ting myself  down  by  the  chaparral  boughs  that  overhung 
my  way.  Splendid  walls  on  either  side  rose  steep  and 
high,  for  the  most  part  bare,  but  here  and  there  on  shelf 
or  crevice  bearing  clusters  of  fine  conifers,  their  lower 
slopes  one  vast  wreck  of  boulders  and  thicket  of  chapar- 
ral plants. 


150  MOUNTAINEERING   IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

Not  without  some  difficulty  I  at  length  got  to  the 
brink  and  sat  down  to  rest,  looking  over  at  the  valley, 
whose  meadows  were  only  a  thousand  feet  below  ;  a  cool 
stirring  breeze  blew  up  the  Merced  Canon,  swinging  the 
lace-like  scarf  of  foam  which  fell  from  my  feet,  and,  float- 
ing now  against  the  purple  cliff,  again  blew  out  gracefully 
to  the  rio-ht  or  left.  While  I  looked  a  2fust  came  roam- 
ing  around  the  Cathedral  Kocks,  impinging  against  our 
cliff  near  the  fall,  and  apparently  got  in  between  it  and 
the  cliff,  carrying  the  whole  column  of  falling  water 
straight  out  in  a  streamer  through  the  air. 

I  went  back  to  camp  by  way  of  the  Cathedral  Eocks, 
finding  much  of  interest  in  the  conoidal  structure,  whicfh 
is  yet  perfectly  apparent,  and  unobscured  hy  erosion  or 
the  terrible  splitting  asunder  they  have  suffered.  Upon 
a  ridge  connecting  these  rocks  with  the  plateaus  just 
south  there  were  many  instructive  and  delightful  points 
of  view,  especially  the  crag  just  above  the  Cathedral 
Spires,  from  which  I  overlooked  a  large  part  of  valley 
and  cliff,  with  the  two  sharp  slender  minarets  of  granite 
close  beneath  me.  That  great  block  forming  the  plateau 
between  the  Yosemite  and  Ulilluette  canons  afforded  a 
fine  field  for  studying  granite,  pine,  and  many  remarkably 
characteristic  views  of  the  gorge  below  and  peaks  beyond. 
From  our  camp  I  explored  every  ravine  and  climbed  each 
eminence,  reaching  at  last,  one  fine  afternoon,  the  top  of 
that  singular  hemispherical  mass,  the  Sentinel  Dome. 
From  this  point  one  sweeps  the  horizon  in  all  directions. 
You  stand  upon  the  crest  of  half  a  globe,  whose  smooth 
white  sides,  bearing  here  and  there  stunted  pines,  slope 
away  regularly  in  all  directions  from  your  feet.  Below, 
granite  masses,  blackened  here  and  there  with  densely 
clustered  forest,  stretch  through  varied  undulations  to- 
ward you.    At  a  little  distance  from  the  foot  of  the  Half- 


AROUND   YOSEMITE   WALLS.  151 

Dome,  trees  held  upon  sharp  brinks  and  precipices  plunge 
off  into  Yosemite  upon  one  side,  and  the  dark  rocky 
canon  of  Illilluette  upon  the  other.  Eastward,  soaring 
into  clouds,  stands  the  thin  vertical  mass  of  the  Half- 
Dome. 

From  this  view  the  snowy  peak  of  the  Obelisk,  flat- 
tened into  broad  dome-like  outline,  rises,  shutting  out  the 
more  distant  Sierra  summits.  This  peak,  from  its  pecu- 
liar position  and  thin  tower-like  form,  offers  one  of  the 
most  tempting  summits  of  the  region.  From  that  slender 
top  one  might  look  into  the  Yosemite,  and  into  that  basin 
of  ice  and  granite  between  the  Merced  and  Mount  Lyell 
groups.  I  had  longed  for  it  through  the  last  month's 
campaign,  and  now  made  up  my  mind,  with  this  inspiring 
view,  to  attempt  it  at  all  hazards. 

A  little  w^ay  to  the  east,  and  about  a  thousand  feet  below 
the  brink  of  the  Glacier  Point,  the  crags  appeared  to  me 
particularly  tempting ;  so  in  the  late  afternoon  I  descended, 
walking  over  a  rough,  gritty  surface  of  granite,  which  gave 
me  secure  foothold.  Upon  the  very  edge  the  immense 
splintered  blocks  lay  piled  one  upon  another  ;  here  a  mass 
jutting  out  and  overhanging  upon  the  edge,  and  here  a 
huge  slab  pointed  out  like  a  barbette  gun.  I  crawled  out 
upon  of  one  these  projecting  blocks  and  rested  myself, 
while  studying  the  view. 

From  here  the  one  very  remarkable  object  is  the  Half- 
Dome.  You  see  it  now  edgewise  and  in  sharp  profile,  the 
upper  half  of  the  conoid  fronting  the  north  with  a  sharp, 
sheer  fracture-face  of  about  two  thousand  feet  vertical. 
From  the  top  of  this  a  most  graceful  helmet  curve  sweeps 
over  to  the  south,  and  descends  almost  perpendicularly  into 
the  valley  of  the  Little  Yosemite ;  and  here  from  the  foot 
springs  up  the  block  of  Mount  Broderick, — a  single,  rough- 
hewn  pyramid,  three  thousand  feet  from  summit  to  base, 


152  MOUNTAINEERING   IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

trimmed  upon  its  crest  with  a  few  pines,  and  spreading 
out  its  southern  base  into  a  precipice,  over  which  plunges 
the  white  Nevada  torrent.  Observation  had  taught  me 
that  a  glacier  flowed  over'  the  Yosemite  brink.  As  I 
looked  over  now  I  could  see  its  shallow  valley,  and  the 
ever-rounded  rocks  over  which  it  crowded  itself  and  tum- 
bled into  the  icy  valley  below.  Up  the  Yosemite  gorge, 
which  opened  straight  before  me,  I  knew  that  another 
great  glacier  had  flowed ;  and  also  that  the  valley  of  the 
Illilluette  and  the  Little  Yosemite  had  been  the  bed  of 
rivers  of  ice ;  a  study,  too,  of  the  markings  upon  the 
glacier  cliff  above  Hutchings's  house,  had  convinced  me 
that  a  glacier  no  less  than  a  thousand  feet  deep  had 
flowed  through  the  valley,  occupying  its  entire  bottom. 

It  was  impossible  for  me,  as  I  sat  perched  upon  this 
jutting  rock  mass,  in  full  view  of  all  the  canons  which 
had  led  into  this  wonderful  converging  system  of  ice- 
rivers,  not  to  imagine  a  picture  of  the  glacier  period. 
Bare  or  snow-laden  cliffs  overhung  the  gulf;  streams  of 
ice,  here  smooth  and  compacted  into  a  white  plain,  there 
riven  into  innumerable  crevasses,  or  tossed  into  forms 
like  the  waves  of  a  tempest-lashed  sea,  crawled  through 
all  the  gorges.  Torrents  of  water  and  avalanches  of  rock 
and  snow  spouted  at  intervals  all  along  the  cliff  walls. 
Kot  a  tree  nor  a  vestige  of  life  was  in  sight,  except  far 
away  upon  ridges  below,  or  out  upon  the  dimly  expanding 
plain.  Granite  and  ice  and  snow,  silence  broken  only  by 
the  howling  tempest  and  the  crash  of  falling  ice  or  splin- 
tered rock,  and  a  sky  deep  freighted  with  cloud  and 
storm,  —  these  were  the  elements  of  a  period  which  lasted 
immeasurably  long,  and  only  in  comparatively  the  most 
recent  geological  times  have  given  way  to  the  present  mar- 
vellously changed  condition.  Nature  in  her  present  as- 
pects, as  well  as  in  the  records  of  her  past,  here  constantly 


AROUND   YOSEMITE   WALLS.  153 

offers  the  most  vivid  and  terrible  contrasts.  Can  any- 
thing be  more  wonderfully  opposite  than  that  period  of 
leaden  sky,  gray  granite,  and  desolate  stretclies  of  white, 
and  the  present,  when  of  the  old  order  we  have  only  left 
the  solid  framework  of  granite,  and  the  indelible  inscrip- 
tions of  glacier  work  ?  To-day  their  burnished  pathways 
are  legibly  traced  with  the  history  of  the  past.  Every 
ice-stream  is  represented  by  a  feeble  river,  every  great 
glacier  cascade  by  a  torrent  of  white  foam  dashing  itself 
down  rugged  walls,  or  spouting  from  the  brinks  of  upright 
cliffs.  Tlie  very  avalanche  tracks  are  darkened  by  clus- 
tered woods,  and  over  the  level  pathway  of  the  great 
Yosemite  glacier  itself  is  spread  a  park  of  green,  a  mo- 
saic of  forest,  a  thread  of  river. 


7* 


154  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE  SIERRA  NEVADA. 


VIII. 

A  SIEEEA  STOEM. 

From  every  commanding  eminence  around  the  Yosemite 
no  distant  object  rises  with  more  inspiring  greatness  than 
the  Obelisk  of  Mount  Clark.  Seen  from  the  west  it  is  a 
high  isolated  peak,  having  a  dome-like  outline  very  much 
flattened  upon  its  west  side,  the  precipice  sinking  deeply 
down  to  an  old  glacier  ravine.  From  the  north  this  peak 
is  a  slender  single  needle,  jutting  two  thousand  feet  from 
a  rough-hewn  pedestal  of  rocks  and  snow-fields.  Forest- 
covered  heights  rise  to  its  base  from  east  and  west.  To 
the  south  it  falls  into  a  deep  saddle,  which  rises  again, 
after  a  level  outline  of  a  mile,  sweeping  up  in  another 
noble  granite  peak.  On  the  north  the  spur  drops  abruptly 
down,  overhanging  an  edge  of  the  great  Merced  gorge,  its 
base  buried  beneath  an  accumulation  of  morainal  matter 
deposited  by  ancient  Merced  glaciers.  From  the  region 
of  Mount  Hoffmann  looming  in  most  impressive  isolation, 
its  slender  needle-like  summit  had  long  fired  us  with  am- 
bition ;  and  having  finished  my  agreeable  climb  round  the 
Yosemite  walls,  I  concluded  to  visit  the  mountain  with 
Cotter,  and,  if  the  weather  should  permit,  to  attempt 
a  climb.  We  packed  our  two  mules  with  a  week's  pro- 
visions and  a  single  blanket  each,  and  on  the  10th  of 
November  left  our  friends  at  the  head-quarters'  camp  in 
Yosemite  Valley  and  rode  out  upon  tlie  Mariposa  trail, 
reaching  the  plateau  by  noon.  Having  passed  Meadow 
Brook,  we  left  the  path  and  bore  off  in  the  direction  of 


A   SIERRA  STORM.  155 

Mount  Clark,  spending  tlie  afternoon  in  riding  over  granite 
ridges  and  open  stretches  of  frozen  meadow,  where  the 
ground  was  all  hard,  and  grass  entirely  cropped  off  by 
numerous  herds  of  sheep  that  had  ranged  here  during 
summer.  The  whole  earth  was  bare,  and  rang  under  our 
mules'  hoofs  almost  as  clearly  as  the  granite  itself 

We  camped  for  the  night  on  one  of  the  most  eastern 
affluents  of  Bridal  Veil  Creek,  and  were  careful  to  fill  our 
canteens  before  the  bitter  night-chill  should  freeze  it  over. 
By  our  camp  was  a  pile  of  pine  logs  swept  together  by 
some  former  tempest ;  we  lighted  them,  and  were  quickly 
saluted  by  a  magnificent  bonfire.  The  animals  were  tied 
within  its  ring  of  warmth,  and  our  beds  laid  wdiere  the 
rain  of  sparks  could  not  reach.  As  we  were  just  going 
to  sleep,  our  mules  pricked  up  their  ears  and  looked  into 
the  forest.  We  sprang  to  our  feet,  picked  up  our  pistols, 
expecting  an  Indian  or  a  grizzly,  but  w^ere  surprised  to  see, 
riding  out  of  the  darkness,  a  lonely  mountaineer,  mounted 
■upon  a  little  mustang,  carrying  his  long  rifle  across  the 
saddle-bow.  He  came  directly  to  our  camp-fire,  and,  with- 
out uttering  a  word,  slowly  and  with  great  effort  swung 
himself  out  of  his  saddle  and  w^alked  close  to  the  flames, 
leaving  his  horse,  who  remained  motionless,  where  he 
had  reined  him  in.  I  saw  that  the  man  was  nearly  frozen 
to  death,  and  immediately  threw  my  blanket  over  his 
shoulders.  The  water  in  our  camp  kettle  was  still  hot, 
and  Cotter  made  haste  to  draw  a  pot  of  tea,  while  I 
broiled  a  slice  of  beef  and  pressed  him  to  eat.  He, 
however,  shook  his  head  and  maintained  a  persistent 
silence,  until  at  length,  after  turning  round  and  round 
until  I  could  have  thought  liim  done  to  a  turn,  in  a  very 
feeble,  broken  voice  he  ejaculated,  "  I  was  pretty  near  gone 
in,  stranger ! "  Again  I  pressed  him  to  drink  a  cup  of 
tea,  but  he  feebly  answered,  "  Not  yet."     After  roasting 


156  MOUNTAINEERING   IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

for  half  an  hour,  in  which  I  fully  expected  to  see  his 
coat-tail  smoke,  he  sat  down  and  drank  about  two  quarts 
of  tea.  This  had  the  effect  of  thawing  him  out,  and  he 
remembered  that  his  horse  was  still  saddled  and  very 
hungry.  He  told  us  that  neither  he  nor  the  animal  had 
had  anything  to  eat  for  three  days,  and  that  he  was  push- 
ing hopelessly  westward,  expecting  either  the  giving  out 
of  his  horse,  or  death  by  freezing.  "We  took  the  saddle 
from  his  tired  little  mustang,  spread  the  saddle-blanket 
over  his  back,  and  from  the  scanty  supply  of  grain  we 
had  brought  for  our  own  animals  gave  him  a  tolerable 
supper.  It  is  wonderful  how  in  hours  of  danger  and  pri- 
vation the  horse  clings  to  his  human  friend.  Perfectly 
tame,  perfectly  trusting,  he  throws  the  responsibility  of 
his  care  and  life  upon  his  rider ;  and  it  is  not  the  least 
pathetic  among  our  mountain  experiences  to  see  this 
patient  confidence  continue  until  death.  Observing  that 
the  logs  were  likely  to  burn  freely  all  night,  we  divided 
our  blankets  with  the  mountaineer,  and  Cotter  and  I 
turned  in  together.  In  the  morning  our  new  friend  had 
entirely  recovered  from  his  numb,  stupid  condition. 
Eecognizing  at  a  glance  his  whereabouts,  and  thanking 
us  feelingly  for  our  rough  hospitality,  he  headed  toward 
"the  Mariposa  trail,  with  quite  an  affecting  good-by. 

After  breakfast  we  ourselves  mounted  and  rode  up  a  long 
forest-covered  spur  leading  to  the  summit  of  a  granite  di- 
vide, which  we  crossed  at  a  narrow  pass  between  two  abrupt 
cliffs,  and  descended  its  eastern  slope  in  full  view  of  the 
whole  Merced  group.  This  long  abrupt  descent  in  front 
of  us  led  to  the  Illilluette  Creek,  and  directly  opposite  on 
the  other  side  of  the  trough-like  valley  rose  the  high 
sharp  summit  of  Mount  Clark.  We  were  all  day  in 
crossing  and  riding  up  the  crest  of  a  sharply  curved 
medial  moraine  which  traced  itself  from  the  mountaiq. 


A   SIERRA    STOFiM.  157 

south  of  Mount  Clark  in  a  long  parabolic  curve,  dying 
out  at  last  in  the  bottom  of  the  lUilluette  basin.  The 
moraine  was  one  of  the  most  perfect  I  have  ever  seen ; 
its  smooth  graded  summit  rose  as  regularly  as  a  railway 
embankment,  and  seemed  to  be  formed  altogether  of 
irregular  boulders  piled  securely  together  and  cemented 
by  a  thick  deposit  of  granitic  glacier-dust.  Late  in  the 
afternoon  we  had  reached  its  head,  where  the  two  con- 
verging glaciers  of  Mount  Clark  and  Mount  Kyle  had 
joined,  clasping  a  rugged  promontory  of  granite.  To  our 
left,  in  a  depression  of  the  forest-covered  basin,  lay  a  little 
patch  of  meadow  wholly  surrounded  by  dense  groups  of 
alpine  trees,  which  grew  in  clusters  of  five  and  six,  ap- 
parently from  one  root.  A  little  stream  from  the  Obelisk 
snows  fell  in  a  series  of  shallow  cascades  by  the  meadow's 
margin.  We"  jumped  across  the  brook  and  went  into 
camp,  tethering  the  mules  close  by  us.  One  of  the  great 
charms  of  high  mountain  camps  is  their  very  domestic 
nature.  Your  animals  are  picketed  close  by  the  kitchen, 
your  beds  are  between  the  two,  and  the  water  and  the 
wood  are  always  in  most  comfortable  apposition. 

For  the  first  time  in  many  months  a  mild  moist  wind 
sprang  up  from  the  south,  and  with  it  came  slowly  creep- 
ing over  the  sky  a  dull,  leaden  bank  of  ominous-looking 
cloud.  Since  April  we  had  had  no  storm.  The  per- 
petually cloudless  sky  had  banished  all  thought,  almost 
memory,  of  foul  weather ;  but  winter  tempests  had  already 
held  off  remarkably,  and  we  knew  that  at  any  moment 
they  might  set  in,  and  in  twenty-four  hours  render  the 
plateaus  impassable.  It  was  with  some  anxiety  that  I 
closed  my  eyes  that  night,  and,  sleeping  lightly,  often 
T/oke  as  a  freshening  wind  moved  the  pines.  At  dawn  we 
were  up,  and  observed  that  a  dark  heavy  mass  of  storm- 
cloud  covered  the  whole  sky,  and  had  settled  down  over 


158  MOUNTAINEERING   IN   THE   SIERRA   NEVADA. 

the  Obelisk,  wrapping  even  tlie  snow-fields  at  its  base  in 
gray  folds.  The  entire  peak  was  lost,  except  now  and 
then,  when  the  torn  vapors  parted  for  a  few  moments  and 
disclosed  its  sharp  summit,  whitened  by  new-fallen  snow. 
A  strange  moan  filled  the  air.  The  winds  howled  piti- 
lessly over  the  rocks,  and  swept  in  deafening  blasts 
through  the  pines.  It  was  my  duty  to  saddle  up  directly 
and  flee  for  the  Yosemite,  but  I  am  naturally  an  opti- 
mist, a  sort  of  geological  Micawber,  so  I  dodged  my  duty, 
and  determined  to  give  the  weather  every  opportunity 
for  a  clear-off.  Accordingly  we  remained  in  camp  all  day, 
studying  the  minerals  of  the  granite  as  the  thickly  strewn 
boulders  gave  us  material.  At  nightfall  I  climbed  a  little 
rise  back  of  our  meadow,  and  looked  out  over  the  basin  of 
Illilluette,  and  up  in  the  direction  of  the  Obelisk.  Now 
and  then  the  parting  clouds  opened  a  glimpse  of  the 
mountain,  and  occasionally  an  unusual  blast  of  wind 
blew  away  the  deeply  settled  vapors  from  the  canon  to 
westward ;  but  each  time  they  closed  in  more  threaten- 
ingly, and  before  I  descended  to  camp  the  whole  land 
was  obscured  in  the  cloud  which  settled  densely  down. 

The  mules  had  made  themselves  comfortable  with  a  re- 
past of  rich  mountain  grasses,  which,  though  slightly  frost- 
ed, still  retained  much  of  their  original  juice  and  nutriment. 
We  ourselves  made  a  deep  inroad  on  the  supply  of  pro- 
visions, and,  after  chatting  awhile  by  the  firelight,  went  to 
bed,  taking  the  precaution  to  pile  our  effects  carefully  to- 
gether, covering  them  with  an  india-rubber  blanket.  Our 
bivouac  was  in  the  middle  of  a  cluster  of  firs,  quite  well 
protected  overhead,  but  open  to  the  sudden  gusts  which 
blew  roughly  hither  and  thither.  By  nine  o'clock  wind 
died  away  altogether,  and  in  a  few  moments  a  thick  cloud 
of  snow  was  falling.  We  had  gone  to  bed  together,  pulled 
the  blankets  as  a  cover  over  our  heads,  and  in  a  few 


A   SIERRA   STORM.  159 

moments  fell  into  a  heavy  sleep.  Once  or  twice  in  the 
night  I  woke  with  a  slight  sense  of  suiibcation,  and  cau- 
tiously lifted  the  blanket  over  my  head,  but  each  time 
found  it  growing  heavier  and  heavier  with  a  freight  of 
snow.  In  the  morning  we  awoke  quite  early,  and,  push- 
ing back  the  blanket,  found  that  we  had  been  covered  by 
about  a  foot  and  a  half  of  snow.  The  poor  mules  had 
approached  us  to  the  limit  of  their  rope,  and  stood  within 
a  few  feet  of  our  beds,  anxiously  waiting  our  first  signs 
of  Kfe. 

We  hurried  to  breakfast,  and  hastily  putting  on  the 
saddles,  and  WTapping  ourselves  from  head  to  foot  in 
our  blankets,  mounted,  and  started  for  the  crest  of  the 
moraine.  I  had  taken  the  precaution  to  make  a  little 
sketch-map  in  my  note-book,  with  the  compass  directions 
of  our  march  from  the  Yosemite,  and  we  had  now  the  diffi- 
cult task  of  retracing  our  steps  in  a  storm  so  blinding  and 
fierce  that  w^e  could  never  see  more  than  a  rod  in  advance. 
But  for  the  regular  form  of  the  moraine,  wdth  whose 
curve  we  were  already  familiar,  I  fear  we  must  have  lost 
our  way  in  the  real  labyrinth  of  glaciated  rocks  which 
covered  the  whole  Illilluette  basin.  Snow  blew  in  every 
direction,  filling  our  eyes  and  blinding  the  poor  mules,  who 
often  turned  quickly  from  some  sudden  gust,  and  refused 
to  go  on.  It  was  a  cruel  necessity,  but  we  spurred  them 
inexorably  forward,  guiding  them  to  the  right  and  left  to 
avoid  rocks  and  trees  which,  in  their  blindness,  they  were 
constantly  threatening  to  strike.  Warmly  rolled  in  our 
blankets,  we  suffered  little  from  cold,  but  the  driving  sleet 
and  hail  very  soon  bruised  our  cheeks  and  eyelids  most 
painfully.  It  required  real  effort  of  will  to  face  the 
storm,  and  we  very  soon  learned  to  take  turns  in  breaking 
trail.  The  snow  constantly  balled  upon  our  animals'  feet, 
and  they  slid  in  every  direction.     Now  and  then,  in  de- 


160  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

scending  a  sharp  slope  of  granite,  the  poor  creatures 
would  get  sliding,  and  rush  to  the  bottom,  their  legs  stifi- 
ened  out,  and  their  heads  thrust  forward  in  fear.  After 
crossing  the  Illilluette,  which  we  did  at  our  old  ford,  we 
found  it  very  difficult  to  climb  the  long  steep  hillside ;  for 
the  mules  were  quite  unable  to  carry  us,  obliging  us  to 
lead  them,  and  to  throw  ourselves  upon  the  snow-drifts  to 
break  a  pathway. 

This  slope  almost  wore  us  out,  and  when  at  last  we 
reached  its  summit  we  threw  ourselves  upon  the  snow  for 
a  rest,  but  were  in  such  a  profuse  perspiration  that  I 
deemed  it  unsafe  to  lie  there  for  a  moment,  and,  getting 
up  again,  we  mounted  the  mules  and  rode  slowly  on  to- 
ward open  plateaus  near  great  meadows.  The  snow 
gradually  decreased  in  depth  as  we  descended  upon  the 
plain  directly  south  of  the  Yosemite.  The  wind  abated 
somewhat,  and  there  were  only  occasional  slow  flurries 
between  half-hours  of  tolerable  comfort.  Constant  use 
of  the  compass  and  reference  to  my  little  map  at  length 
brought  us  to  the  Mariposa  trail,  but  not  until  after  eight 
hours  of  anxious,  exhaustive  labor,  —  anxious  from  the 
constant  dread  of  losing  our  way  in  the  blinding  con- 
fusion of  storm ;  exhausting,  for  we  had  more  than  half 
of  the  way  acted  as  trail-breakers,  dragging  our  frightened 
and  tired  brutes  after  us.  The  poor  creatures  instantly 
recognized  the  trail,  and  started  in  a  brisk  trot  toward 
Inspiration  Point.  Suddenly  an  icy  wind  swept  up  the 
valley,  carrying  with  it  a  storm  of  snow  and  hail.  The 
wand  blew  with  such  violence  that  the  whole  freidit  of 
sleet  and  ice  was  carried  horizontally  with  fearful  swift- 
ness, cutting  the  bruised  faces  of  the  mules,  and  o-ivinor 
our  own  eyelids  exquisite  torture.  The  brutes  refused  to 
carry  us  farther.  We  were  obliged  to  dismount  and  drive 
them  before  us,  beating  them  constantly  with  clubs. 


A   SIERRA   STORM.  161 

Fighting  our  way  against  this  bitter  blast,  half  blinded 
by  hard,  wind-driven  snow-crystals,  we  at  last  gave  up 
and  took  refuge  in  a  dense  clump  of  firs  which  crown  the 
spur  by  Inspiration  Point.  Our  poor  mules  cowered  under 
shelter  with  us,  and  turned  tail  to  the  storm.  The  fir- 
trees  were  solid  cones  of  snow,  which  now  and  then  un- 
loaded themselves  when  severely  bent  by  a  sudden  gust, 
half  burying  us  in  dry  white  powder.  Wind  roared  below 
us  in  the  Yosemite  gorge  ;  it  blew  from  the  west,  rolling 
up  in  waves  which  smote  the  cliffs,  and  surged  on  up  the 
valley.  AVhile  we  sat  still  the  drifts  began  to  pile  up  at 
our  backs  ;  the  mules  were  belly-deep,  and  our  situation 
began  to  be  serious. 

Looking  over  the  cliff-brink  we  saw  but  the  hurrying 
snow,  and  only  heard  a  confused  tumult  of  wind.  A 
steady  increase  in  the  severity  of  the  gale  made  us  fear 
that  the  trees  might  crash  down  over  us ;  so  we  left  the 
mules  and  crept  cautiously  over  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  and 
ensconced  ourselves  in  a  sheltered  nook,  protected  by  walls 
of  rock  which  rose  at  our  back. 

We  were  on  the  brink  of  the  Yosemite,  and  but  for 
snow  might  have  looked  down  three  thousand  feet.  The 
storm  eddied  below  us,  sucking  down  whirlwinds  of  snow, 
and  sometimes  opening  deep  rifts,  —  never  enough,  how- 
ever, to  disclose  more  than  a  few  hundred  feet  of  cliffs. 

We  had  been  in  this  position  about  an  hour,  half 
frozen  and  soaked  through,  when  I  at  length  gathered 
conscience  enough  to  climb  back  and  take  a  look  at  our 
brutes.  The  forlorn  pair  were  frosted  over  with  a  thick 
coating,  their  pitiful  eyes  staring  eagerly  at  me.  I  had 
half  a  mind  to  turn  them  loose,  but,  considering  that  their 
obstinate  nature  might  lead  them  back  to  our  Obelisk 
camp,  I  patted  their  noses,  and  climbed  back  to  the 
shelf  by  Cotter,  determined  to  try  it  for  a  quarter  of  an 


162  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

hour  more,  when,  if  the  tempest  did  not  lull,  I  thought 
we  must  press  on  and  face  the  snow  for  an  hour  more, 
while  we  tramped  down  to  the  valley. 

Suddenly  there  came  a  lull  in  the  storm ;  its  blinding 
fury  of  snow  and  wind  ceased.  Overhead,  still  hurrying 
eastward,  the  white  bank  drove  on,  unveiling,  as  it  fled, 
the  Yosemite  walls,  plateau,  and  every  object  to  the  east- 
ward as  far  as  Mount  Clark.  As  yet  the  valley  bottom 
was  obscured  by  a  layer  of  mist  and  cloud,  which  rose  to 
the  height  of  about  a  thousand  feet,  submerging  cliff-foot 
and  debris  pile.  Between  these  strata,  the  cloud  above 
and  the  cloud  below,  every  object  was  in  clear,  distinct 
view  ;  the  sharp  terrible  fronts  of  precipices,  capped  with 
a  fresh  cover  of  white,  plunged  down  into  the  still,  gray 
river  of  cloud  below,  their  stony  surfaces  clouded  with 
purple,  salmon-color,  and  bandings  of  brown,  —  all  hu.es 
unnoticeable  in  every-day  lights.  Forest,  and  crag,  and 
plateau,  and  distant  mountain  were  snow-covered  to  a 
uniform  whiteness;  only  the  dark  gorge  beneath  us 
showed  the  least  traces  of  color.  There  all  was  rich, 
deep,  gloomy.  Even  over  the  snowy  surfaces  above  there 
prevailed  an  almost  ashen  grey,  which  reflected  itself 
from  the  dull,  drifting  sky.  A  few  torn  locks  of  vapor 
poured  over  the  cliff-edge  at  intervals,  and  crawled  down 
like  Avreaths  of  smoke,  floating  gracefully  and  losing  them- 
selves at  last  in  the  bank  of  cloud  which  lay  upon  the 
bottom  of  the  valley. 

On  a  sudden  the  whole  gray  roof  rolled  away  like  a 
scroll,  leaving  the  heavens  from  west  to  far  east  one 
expanse  of  pure,  warm  blue.  Setting  sunlight  smote  full 
upon  the  stony  walls  below,  and  shot  over  the  plateau 
country,  gilding  here  a  snowy  forest  group,  and  there  a 
wave-crest  of  whitened  ridge.  The  whole  air  sparkled 
with  diamond  particles;   red  light  streamed  in  through 


A   SIERRA   STORM.  163 

the  open  Yosemite  gateway,  brightening  those  vast,  solemn 
faces  of  stone,  and  intensifying  the  deep  neutral  blue  of 
shadowed  alcoves. 

The  luminous  cloud-bank  in  the  east  rolled  from  the 
last  Sierra  crest,  leaving  the  whole  chain  of  peaks  in 
broad  light,  each  rocky  crest  strongly  red,  the  newly 
fallen  snow  marbling  them  over  with  a  soft,  deep  rose ; 
and,  wherever  a  canon  carved  itself  down  their  rocky 
fronts,  its  course  was  traceable  by  a  shadowy  band  of 
blue.  The  middle  distance  glowed  with  a  tint  of  golden 
yellow;  the  broken  heights  along  the  canon-brinks  and 
edges  of  the  cliff  in  front  were  of  an  intense  spotless 
white.  Far  below  us  the  cloud  stratum  melted  away, 
revealing  the  floor  of  the  valley,  whose  russet  and  emerald 
and  brown  and  red  burned  in  the  broad  evening  sun.  It 
was  a  marvellous  piece  of  contrasted  lights,  —  the  distance 
so  pure,  so  soft  in  its  rosy  warmth,  so  cool  in  the  depth 
of  its  shadowy  blue ;  the  foreground  strong  in  fiery 
orange,  or  sparkling  in  absolute  whiteness.  I  enjoyed, 
too,  looking  up  at  the  pure  unclouded  sky,  which  now 
wore  an  aspect  of  intense  serenity.  For  half  an  hour 
nature  seemed  in  entire  repose;  not  a  breath  of  wind 
stirred  the  white  snow-laden  shafts  of  the  trees ;  not  a 
sound  of  animate  creature,  or  the  most  distant  rever- 
beration of  waterfall  reached  us ;  no  film  of  vapor  moved 
across  the  tranquil  sapphire  sky ;  absolute  quiet  reigned 
until  a  loud  roar  proceeding  from  Capitan  turned  our 
eyes  in  that  direction.  From  the  round,  dome-like  cap 
of  its  summit  there  moved  down  an  avalanche,  gathering 
volume  and  swiftness  as  it  rushed  to  the  brink,  and  then, 
leaping  out  two  or  three  hundred  feet  into  space,  fell, 
slowly  filtering  down  through  the  lighted  air,  like  a  silver 
cloud,  until  within  a  thousand  feet  of  the  earth  it  floated 
into  the  shadow  of  the  cliff  and  sank  to  the  ground  as  a 


164  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

faint  blue  mist,  l^ext  the  Cathedral  snow  poured  from 
its  lighted  summit  in  resounding  avalanches ;  then  the 
Three  Brothers  shot  off  their  loads,  and  afar  from  the  east 
a  deep  roar  reached  us  as  the  whole  snow-cover  thundered 
down  the  flank  of  Cloud's  Eest. 

We  were  warned  by  the  hour  to  make  all  haste,  and, 
driving  the  poor  brutes  before  us,  made  our  way  down 
the  trail  as  fast  as  possible.  The  light,  already  pale,  left 
the  distant  heights  in  still  more  glorious  contrast.  A 
zone  of  amber  sky  rose  behind  the  glowing  peaks,  and 
a  cold,  steel-blue  plain  of  snow  skirted  their  bases.  Mist 
slowly  gathered  again  in  the  gorge  below  us  and  over- 
spread the  valley  floor,  shutting  it  out  from  our  view. 

We  ran  down  the  zigzag  trail  until  we  came  to  that 
shelf  of  bare  granite  immediately  below  the  final  descent 
into  the  valley.  Here  we  paused  just  above  the  surface 
of  the  clouds,  which,  swept  by  fitful  breezes,  rose  in 
swells,  floating  up  and  sinking  again  like  waves  of  the 
sea.  Intense  light,  more  glowing  than  ever,  streamed  in 
upon  the  upper  half  of  the  cliffs,  their  bases  sunken  in 
the  purple  mist.  As  the  cloud-waves  crawled  upward 
in  the  breeze,  they  here  and  there  touched  a  red-purple 
light  and  fell  back  again  into  the  shadow. 

We  watched  these  effects  with  greatest  interest,  and, 
just  as  we  were  about  moving  on  again,  a  loud  burst  as 
of  heavy  thunder  arrested  us,  sounding  as  if  the  very 
walls  were  crashing  in.  We  looked,  and  from  the  whole 
brow  of  Capitan  rushed  over,  one  huge  avalanche,  breaking 
into  the  finest  powder  and  floating  down  through  orange 
light,  disappearing  in  the  sea  of  purple  cloud  beneath  us. 

We  soon  mounted  and  pressed  up  the  valley  to  our 
camp,  where  our  anxious  friends  greeted  us  with  enthu- 
siastic welcome  and  never-to-be-forgotten  beans.  We  fed 
our  exhausted  animals  a  full  ration  of  barley,  and  turned 


A  SIEREA  STORM.  165 

them  out  to  shelter  themselves  as  best  they  might  under 
friendly  oaks  or  among  young  pines.  In  anticipation 
of  our  return  the  party  had  gotten  up  a  capital  sup- 
per, to  which  we  first  administered  justice,  then  pun- 
ishment, and  finally  annihilation.  Brief  starvation  and 
a  healthy  combat  for  life  with  the  elements  lent  a  most 
marvellous  zest  to  the  appetite.  Under  the  subtle  in- 
fluences of  a  free  circulation  and  a  stinging  cold  night, 
I  perceived  a  region  of  the  taste  which  answers  to 
those  most  refined  blue  waves  of  the  spectrum.  Clouds 
which  had  infolded  the  heavens  rolled  off  to  the  east  in 
torn  fillets  of  gold.  The  stars  came  out  full  and  flashing 
in  the  darkling  sky  of  evening.  We  left  our  cabins  and 
grouped  ourselves  around  a  loquacious  camp-fire,  which 
prattled  incessantly  and  distilled  volumes  of  that  mild 
stimulant,  pyroligneous  acid,  —  an  ill-savored  gas  which 
seems  to  have  inspired  much  domestic  poetry,  however 
it  may  have  affected  the  New  England  olfactory  nerves. 

The  vast  valley  walls,  light  in  contrast  with  the  deep 
nocturnal  violet  heavens,  rose  far  into  the  night,  appar- 
ently holding  up  a  roof  of  stars  whose  brilliancy  faded 
quite  rapidly,  until  finally  the  last  blinking  points  of 
light  died  out,  and  cold,  hard  gray  stretched  from  cliff  to 
cliff.  Far  up  canons  and  in  the  heart  of  the  mountains 
we  could  hear  terrible  tempest  gusts  crashing  among  the 
trees,  and  breaking  in  deep,  long  surges  against  faces  of 
granite ;  coming  nearer  and  nearer,  they  swept  down  the 
gorges,  with  volume  increasing  every  moment,  until  they 
poured  into  the  upper  end  of  the  valley  and  fell  upon  its 
groves  with  terrible  fury.  The  wind  shrieked  wild  and 
high  among  the  summit  crags,  it  tore  through  the  pine- 
belts,  and  now  and  then  a  sudden  sharp  crash  resounded 
through  the  valley  as,  one  after  another,  old  infirm  pines 
were  hurled  down  before  its  blast.    The  very  walls  seemed 


166  MOUNT AINEEKING  IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

to  tremble ;  the  air  was  thick  with  flying  leaves  and  dead 
branches;  the  snow  of  the  summits,  hard  frozen  by  a  sudden 
chill,  was  blown  from  the  walls  and  filled  the  air  with  its 
keen  cutting  crystals.  At  last  the  very  clouds,  torn  into 
wild  flocks,  were  swept  down  into  the  valley,  filling  it 
with  opaque  hurrying  vapors.  Eocks  loosening  them- 
selves from  the  plateau  came  thundering  down  precipice- 
faces,  crashing  upon  dehris  piles  and  forest  groups  below. 
Sleet  and  snow  and  rain  fell  fast,  and  the  boom  of  falling 
trees  and  crashing  avalanches  followed  one  another  in  an 
almost  uninterrupted  roar.  In  the  Sentinel  gorge,  back 
of  our  camp,  an  avalanche  of  rock  suddenly  let  loose  and 
came  down  with  a  harsh  rattle,  the  boulders  bounding 
over  debris  piles  and  crashing  through  the  trees  by  our 
camp.  A  vivid  belt  of  blue  lightning  flashed  down 
through  the  blackness,  and  for  a  moment  every  outline 
of  cliff  and  forest  forms,  and  the  rushing  clouds  of  snow 
and  sleet,  were  lighted  up  with  a  cold  pallid  gleam.  The 
burst  of  thunder  which  followed  rolled  but  for  a  moment, 
and  was  silenced  by  the  furious  storm.  In  the  moment 
of  lightning  I  saw  that  the  Yosemite  Fall,  which  had 
been  dry  for  a  month,  had  suddenly  sprung  into  life 
again.  Vast  volumes  of  water  and  ice  were  pouring  over 
and  beating  like  sea- waves  upon  the  granite  below.  Our 
mules  came  up  to  the  cabin,  and  stood  on  its  lee  side 
trembling,  and  uttering  suppressed  moans.  After  hours 
the  fitfulness  of  the  tempest  passed  away,  leaving  a  grand 
monotonous  roar.  It  had  torn  off  all  the  rotten  branches 
of  the  year,  and  prostrated  every  decrepit  tree,  and  at  last 
settled  down  to  a  continuous  gale,  laden  with  torrents  of 
rain.  We  laid  down  upon  our  bunks  in  our  clothes, 
watching  and  listening  through  all  the  first  hours  of  the 
night.  Sleep  was  impossible ;  angry  winds  and  the  fury 
of  drifting  rain  shook  our  httle  shelters,  and  kept  us  wide 


A  SIERRA   STORM.  167 

awake.  Toward  morning  a  second  thunder-storm  burst, 
and  by  the  light  of  its  flashes  I  saw  that  the  river  had 
risen  nearly  to  our  cabin  door,  covering  the  broad  valley 
in  front  of  us  with  a  sheet  of  flood.  Gradually  the  sound 
of  Yosemite  Fall  grew  louder  and  stronger,  the  throbs,  as 
it  beat  upon  the  rocks,  rising  higher  and  higher  till  the 
whole  valley  rung  with  its  pulsations.  By  dawn  the 
storm  had  spent  its  fury,  rain  ceased,  and  around  us 
the  air  was  perfectly  still;  but  aloft,  among  cliffs  and 
walls,  it  might  still  be  heard  sweeping  across  the  forest 
and  tearing  itself  among  granite  needles.  Fearing  that 
so  continuous  a  storm  might  block  up  our  mountain  trails, 
Hyde  and  Cotter  and  Wilmer,  with  instruments  and  pack- 
animals,  started  early  and  went  out  to  Clark's  Eanch. 

So  dense  and  impenetrable  a  fog  overhung  us,  that  day- 
light came  with  extreme  slowness ;  and  it  was  nine  o'clock 
before  we  rose  for  breakfast,  and  at  ten  a  gloomy  sea  of 
mist  still  hung  over  the  valley.  The  Merced  had  over- 
flowed its  banks  and  ran  wild.  Toward  noon  the  mist 
began  to  draw  down  the  valley,  and  finally  all  drifted 
away,  leaving  us  shut  in  by  a  gray  canopy  of  cloud  which 
stretched  from  wall  to  wall,  hanging  down  here  and  there 
in  deep  blue  sags.  In  this  stratum  of  gray  were  lost 
many  higher  summits,  but  the  whole  form  of  valley  and 
cliff  could  be  seen  with  terrible  distinctness,  the  walls 
apparently  drawn  together,  their  bases  at  one  or  two 
points  pushed  into  yellow  floods  of  water  which  lay  like 
lakes  upon  the  level  expanse.  The  whole  lip  of  Yosemite 
was  filled  to  the  brim,  and  through  it  there  poured  a 
broad  full  torrent  of  white.  Shortly  after  noon  a  few 
rifts  opened  overhead,  showing  a  far  sky,  from  which 
poured  gushes  of  strong  yellow  sunlight,  touching  here 
and  there  upon  sombre  faces  of  cliff,  and  occasionally 
gilding  the  falling  torrent.     A  wind  still  blew,  smiting 


168  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

the  Yosemite  precipice,  and  playing  strangest  games  with 
the  fall  itself.  At  one  time  a  gust  rushed  upon  the  lip 
of  the  fall  with  such  violence  as  to  dam  back  all  its 
waters.  We  could  see  its  white  i)ile  in  the  lip  mounting 
higher  and  higher,  still  held  back  by  the  wind,  until  there 
must  have  been  a  front  of  from  a  hundred  and  fifty  to  two 
hundred  feet  of  boiling  white  water.  For  a  whole  minute 
not  a  drop  poured  down  the  wall ;  but,  gathering  strength, 
the  torrent  overcame  the  wind,  rushed  out  with  tremen- 
dous violence,  leaped  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  straight 
out  into  air,  and  fell  clear  to  the  rocks  below,  dashing 
high  and  white  again,  and  breaking  into  a  cloud  of  spray 
that  filled  the  lower  air  of  the  valley  for  a  mile. 

While  the  water  was  held  back  in  the  gorge  there  was 
a  moment  of  complete  silence,  but  when  it  finally  burst 
out  again  a  crash  as  of  sudden  thunder  shook  the  air. 
At  times  gusts  of  wind  would  drive  upon  the  Three 
Brothers  cliff,  and  be  deflected  toward  the  Yosemite, 
swinging  the  whole  mighty  cataract  like  a  pendulum; 
and  again,  pouring  upon  the  rocks  at  the  bottom  of  the 
valley,  it  would  gather  up  the  whole  fall  in  mid-air,  whirl 
it  in  a  festoon,  and  carry  it  back  over  the  very  summit 
of  the  walls.  I  got  out  the  theodolite  to  measure  the 
angle  of  its  deflection,  and,  while  watching,  it  swung  over 
an  entire  semicircle,  now  carried  from  the  cliffs  to  the 
right,  and  then  whirled  back  in  a  cloud  of  foam  over  the 
head  of  the  Three  Brothers.  A  very  frequent  prank  was 
to  loop  the  whole  twenty-six  hundred  feet  of  cataract 
into  a  single  semicircular  festoon,  which  fell  in  the  form 
of  fine  fringe. 

Throughout  the  afternoon  we  did  little  else  than  watch 
these  ever-chanojinc^  forms  of  fallin<][  water,  until  toward 
evening,  when  we  walked  up  to  see  the  Merced.  I  never 
beheld  such  a  rapid  rise  in  any  river ;  from  a  mere  brook 


A   SIERRA   STORM.  169 

hiding  itself  away  under  overhanging  banks  and  among 
shrubby  islands,  it  sprang  in  one  night  to  the  size  of  a 
full  large  river,  flowing  with  the  rapidity  of  a  torrent  and 
whirling  in  its  eddies  huge  trunks  of  storm-blown  pines. 
As  twilight  gathered,  the  scene  deepened  into  a  most 
indescribable  gloom ;  dark-blue  shadows  covered  half  the 
precipices,  and  sullen  unvaried  sky  stretched  over  us  its 
implacable  gray.  There  was  something  positively  fearful 
in  this  color ;  such  an  impenetrable  sky  might  overarch 
the  Inferno.  As  we  looked,  it  slowly  sank,  creeping  down 
precipices,  filling  the  whole  gorge ;  coming  down,  down, 
and  fitting  the  cliffs  like  the  piston  of  an  air-pump,  till 
within  a  thousand  feet  of  us  it  became  stationary,  and 
then  slowly  lifted  again,  clearing  the  summit  and  rising 
to  an  almost  infinite  remoteness.  Slowly  a  few  hard 
sharp  crystals  of  snow  floated  down. 

Later  the  air  became  intensely  chilly,  and  by  dark  was 
full  of  slowly  falling  snow,  giving  prospect  of  a  great 
mountain  storm  which  might  close  the  Sierras.  On  the 
following  morning  we  determined  at  all  costs  to  pack 
our  remaining  instruments  and  escape.  The  ground  w^as 
covered  with  snow  to  the  depth  of  seven  or  eight  inches, 
and  through  drifting  fog-banks  w^e  could  occasionally  get 
glimpses  and  see  that  every  cliff  was  deeply  buried  in 
snow.  We  had  still  a  few  barometrical  observations 
along  the  Mariposa  trail  which  w^ere  necessary  to  com- 
plete our  series  of  altitudes ;  and  I  started  in  advance 
of  Gardner  and  Clark  to  break  the  trail,  expecting  that 
when  T  stopped  to  make  readings  they  would  easily  over- 
take me.  Two  hours'  hard  w^ork  was  needed  to  reach 
the  ascent.  It  was  not  until  noon  that  I  made  Inspiration 
Point,  snow  having  deepened  to  eighteen  inches,  entirely 
obliterating  the  trail,  and  had  it  not  been  for  the  extreme 
frequency  of  our  journeys  I  should  never  have  been  able 

8 


170  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE  SIERRA  NEVADA. 

to  follow  it;  as  it  was,  with  occasional  mistakes  which 
were  soon  remedied,  I  kept  the  way  very  well,  and  my 
tracks  made  it  easy  for  the  party  behind.  Having  reached 
tlie  plateau,  I  made  my  two  barometrical  stations,  and 
then  started  alone  through  forests  for  Westfall's  cabin. 
Every  fir-tree  was  a  solid  cone  of  white,  and  often  clus- 
ters of  five  and  six  were  buried  together  in  one  common 
pile.  Now  and  then  a  little  sunlight  broke  through  the 
clouds,  and  in  these  intervals  the  scene  was  one  of 
wonderful  beauty.  Tall  shafts  of  fir,  often  one  hundred 
and  eighty  feet  high,  trimmed  with  white  biunches,  cast 
their  blue  shadows  upon  snowy  ground. 

At  about  four  o'clock,  after  nine  hours  of  hard  tramp- 
ing, I  reached  Westfall's  cabin,  built  a  fire,  and  sat  down 
to  warm  myself  and  wait  for  my  friends.  In  half  an  hour 
they  made  their  appearance,  looking  haggard  and  weary, 
declaring  they  would  go  no  farther  that  night.  They  led 
their  mule  into  the  cabin,  and  unpacked,  and  began  to 
make  themselves  comfortably  at  home. 

About  five  the  darkness  of  night  had  fairly  settled 
down,  and  with  it  came  a  gentle  but  dense  snow-storm. 
It  seemed  to  me  a  terrible  risk  for  us  to  remain  in  the 
mountains,  and  I  felt  it  to  be  absolutely  necessary  that 
one,  at  least,  should  press  on  to  Clark's,  so  that,  if  a  really 
great  storm  should  come,  he  could  bring  up  aid.  Accord- 
ingly I  volunteered  to  go  on  myself,  Clark  and  Gardner 
expressing  their  determination  to  remain  where  -they  were 
at  all  costs. 

At  this  juncture  Cotter's  well-known  voice  sounded 
through  the  woods  as  he  approached  the  cabin.  He  had 
been  all  day  climbing  from  Clark's,  and  had  come  to  lend 
a  hand  in  getting  the  things  down.  He  was  of  my  opin- 
ion that  it  was  absolutely  necessary  for  one  of  us,  at  least, 
to  go  back  to  Clark's,  and  offered,  if  I  thought  best,  to  try 


A  SIERRA  STORM.  171 

to  accompany  me.  I  had  come  from  Yosemite  and  he 
from  Clark's,  having  travelled  all  day,  and  it  was  no  sliglit 
task  for  us  to  face  storm  and  darkness  in  the  forest,  and 
among  complicated  spurs  of  the  Sierra. 

We  ate  our  lunch  by  the  cabin  fire,  bade  our  friends 
good  night,  and  vi^alked  out  together  into  the  darkness. 
For  the  first  mile  there  was  no  danger  of  missing  our  way, 
—  even  in  the  darkness  of  night  Cotter's  tracks  could  be 
seen, —  but  after  about  half  an  hour  it  began  to  be  very 
difficult  to  keep  the  trail.  The  storm  increased  to  a  tem- 
pest, and  exhaustion  compelled  us  to  travel  slower  and 
slower.  It  w^as  with  intense  anxiety  that  we  searched 
for  well-known  blazed  trees  along  the  trail,  often  thrust- 
ing our  arms  down  in  the  snow  to  feel  for  a  blaze  that 
we  knew  of.  If  it  was  not  there,  we  had  for  a  moment  an 
overpowering  sense  of  being  lost ;  but  we  were  ordinarily 
rewarded  after  searching  upon  a  few  trees,  and  the  blaze 
once  found  reanimated  us  with  new  courage.  Hour  after 
hour  we  travelled  down  the  mountain,  falling  off  high 
banks  now  and  then,  for  in  the  dark  all  ideas  of  slope 
w^ere  lost.  It  must  have  been  about  midnight  when  we 
reached  what  seemed  to  be  the  verge  of  a  precipice.  If 
our  calculations  were  right,  we  must  have  reached  the 
edge  of  the  South  Fork  Canon.  Here  Cotter  sank  with 
exhaustion  and  declared  that  he  must  sleep.  I  rolled 
him  over  and  implored  him  to  get  up  and  struggle  on  for 
a  little  wdiile  longer,  wdien  I  felt  sure  that  we  must  get 
down  to  the  South  Fork  Canon.  He  utterly  refused,  and 
lay  there  in  a  drowsy  condition,  fast  giving  up  to  the 
effects  of  fatigue  and  cold.  I  unbound  a  long  scarf  which 
was  tied  round  his  neck,  put  it  under  his  arms  like  a 
harness,  and,  tying  it  round  my  body,  started  on,  dragging 
him  through  the  snow,  to  see  if  by  that  means  I  might 
not  exasperate  him  to  rise  and  labor  on.     In  a  few  min- 


172  MOUNTAINEERING   IN   THE   SIERRA   NEVADA. 

Tites  it  had  its  effect,  and  lie  sprang  to  his  feet  and  fell 
upon  me  in  a  burst  of  indignation.  A  few  words  were 
enouo'h  to  brin<:?  him  to  himself,  when  the  old  calm  cour- 
age  was  reasserted,  and  we  started  together  to  make  our 
way  down  the  cliff.  Haj)pily  we  at  length  found  the 
right  ridge,  and  rapidly  descended  through  forest  to  the 
river  side. 

Believing  that  we  must  still  be  below  the  bridge,  we 
walked  rapidly  up  the  bank  until,  at  last,  we  found  it, 
and  came  quickly  to  Clark's.  AVe  pounded  upon  the 
cabin  door,  and  waked  up  our  friends,  who  received  us 
with  joy,  and  set  about  cooking  us  a  supper. 

It  was  two  o'clock  when  we  arrived,  and  by  three  we 
all  went  off  again  to  our  bunks.  My  anxiety  about 
Gardner  and  Clark  prevented  my  sleeping.  Every  few 
minutes  I  went  to  the  door. 

Before  dawn  it  had  cleared  again,  and  remained  fair 
till  the  next  noon,  when  the  two  made  their  appear- 
ance. No  sooner  were  they  quietly  housed  than  the  storm 
burst  again  with  renewed  strength,  howling  among  the 
forest  trees  grandly.  Snow  drifted  heavily  all  the  after- 
noon, and  through  the  night  it  still  fell,  reaching  an  aver- 
age depth  of  about  two  feet  by  the  following  morning. 

We  were  up  early,  and  packed  upon  the  animals  our 
instruments,  note-books,  and  personal  effects,  leaving  all 
the  blankets  and  heavy  baggage  to  be  gotten  out  in  the 
following  spring.  We  toiled  slowly  and  heavily  up  Chow- 
chilla  trail.  The  branches  of  the  great  pines  and  firs  were 
overloaded  with  snow,  which  now  and  then  fell  in  small 
avalanches  upon  our  heads.  Here  and  there  an  old  bough 
gave  way  under  its  weight,  and  fell  with  a  soft  thud  into 
the  snow.  AVe  took  turns  breaking  trail,  Napoleon,  the 
one-eyed  mule,  distinguishing  himself  greatly  by  following 
its  intricate  crooks,  while  the  bravest  of  us,  by  turns,  held 


A   SIERRA   STORM.  173 

to  his  tail.  There  is  something  deeply  humiliating  in 
this  process.  All  the  domineering  qualities  of  mankind 
vanished  before  the  quick  subtle  instinct  of  that  noble 
animal,  the  mule,  and  his  superior  strength  came  out  in 
magnificent  style.  With  a  sublime  scorn  of  his  former 
master,  he  started  ahead,  dragging  me  proudly  after  him. 
I  had  sometimes  thrashed  that  mule  with  unsympa- 
thetic violence,  and  I  fancied  it  was  something  very 
like  poetic  justice  thus  submissively  to  follow  in  his 
wake. 

Midday  found  us  upon  the  Chowchilla  summit,  follow- 
ing a  trail  deeply  buried  and  often  obliterated,  and  undis- 
coverable  but  for  our  long-eared  leader.  As  we  descended 
the  west  slope  the  snow  grew  more  and  more  moist,  less 
deep,  and  gradually  turned  into  rain.  An  hour's  tramp 
found  us  upon  bare  ground,  under  the  fiercely  driving  rain, 
which  quickly  soaked  us  to  the  bone.  The  streams,  as 
we  descended,  were  found  to  be  more  and  more  swollen, 
until  at  last  it  required  some  nerve  to  ford  the  little 
brooklets,  which  the  mule  had  drunk  dry  on  our  up- 
ward journey.  The  earth  was  thoroughly  softened,  and 
here  and  there  the  trail  was  filled  with  brimming  brooks, 
which  rapidly  gullied  it  out. 

A  more  drowned  and  bedraggled  set  of  fellows  never 
walked  out  upon  the  w^agon-road  and  turned  toward 
Mariposa.  Streams  of  water  flowed  from  every  fold  of 
our  garments,  our  soaked  hat^  clung  to  our  cheeks,  the 
baggage  was  a  mass  of  pulp,  and  the  mules  smelled  vio- 
lently of  wet  hide.  Fortunately  our  note-books,  care- 
fully strapped  in  oil-cloth,  so  far  resisted  wetting.  It 
was  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  we  reached 
Dulong's  house,  and  were  surprised  to  see  the  water  flow- 
ing over  the  top  of  the  bridge.  In  ordinary  times  a  dry 
arroyo  traverses  this  farm,  and  runs  under  a  bridge  in 


174  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

front  of  the  house.  Clark,  our  only  mounted  man,  rode 
out,  as  he  supposed,  upon  the  bridge ;  but  unfortunately  it 
was  gone,  and  he  and  his  horse  plunged  splendidly  into 
the  stream.  They  came  to  the  surface,  Clark  with  a  look 
of  intense  astonishment  on  his  face,  and  the  mare  sputter- 
ing and  striking  out  wildly  for  the  other  side.  Being  a 
strong  swimmer  she  reached  the  bank,  climbed  out,  and 
Clark  politely  invited  us  to  follow.  The  one-eyed  Napo- 
leon was  brought  to  the  brink  and  induced  to  plunge  in 
by  an  application  of  fence-rails  a  tergo,  his  cyclopean 
organ  piloting  him  safely  across,  when  he  was  quickly  fol- 
lowed by  the  other  mules.  We  watched  the  load  of 
instruments  with  some  anxiety,  and  were  not  reassured 
when  their  heavy  weight  bore  the  mule  quite  under ;  but 
she  climbed  successfully  out,  and  we  ourselves,  half  swim- 
minsj,  half  floundering^,  manacjed  to  cross. 

A  little  way  farther  we  came  upon  another  stream 
rushing  violently  across  the  road,  sweeping  down  logs 
and  sections  of  fence.  Here  Clark  dismounted,  and  we 
drove  the  whole  train  in.  Three  animals  got  safely  over, 
but  the  instrument  mule  was  swept  down  stream  and 
badly  snagged,  lying  upon  one  side  with  his  head  under 
the  water. 

Cotter  and  Gardner  and  Clark  ran  up  stream  and  got 
across  upon  a  log.  I  made  a  dash  for  the  snagged  mule, 
and  by  strong  swimming  managed  to  catch  one  of  his  feet, 
and  then  his  tail,  and  worked  myself  toward  the  shore. 
It  was  something  of  a  task  to  hold  his  head  out  of  the 
water,  but  I  was  quickly  joined  by  the  others,  and  we 
managed  to  drag  him  out  by  the  head  and  tail.  There 
he  lay  upon  the  bank  on  his  side,  tired  of  life,  utterly 
refusing  to  get  upon  his  feet,  the  most  abominable  specimen 
of  inertia  and  indifference.  A^^iile  I  was  pricldng  him 
vigorously  with  a  tripod,  the  ground  caved  under  my  feet 


A  SIERRA   STORM.  175 

and  I  quickly  sank.  Cotter,  who  was  standing  close  by, 
seized  me  by  the  cape  of  my  soldier's  overcoat,  and  landed 
me  as  carefully  as  he  would  a  fish.  As  we  marched  down 
the  road,  unconsciously  keeping  step,  the  sound  of  our 
boots  had  quite  a  symphonic  effect ;  they  were  all  full  of 
water,  and  with  soft  melodious  slushing  acted  as  a  calmer 
upon  our  spirits. 

The  road  in  some  places  was  cut  out  many  feet  deep, 
and  we  were  obliged  to  climb  upon  the  wooded  banks, 
and  make  laborious  detours.  At  last  we  reached  a  branch 
of  the  Chowchilla  which  was  pouring  in  a  flood  between 
a  man's  house  and  his  barn.  Here  we  formed  a  line,  a 
mule  between  each  two  men.  Our  line  was  swept  fright- 
fully down  stream,  but  the  leader  gained  his  feet,  and  we 
came  out  safe  and  dripping  upon  terra  firma  on  the  other 
side.  A  mile  farther  we  came  upon  the  main  Chowchilla, 
which  w^as  running  a  perfect  flood  ;  from  being  a  mere 
brooklet,  it  had  swollen  to  a  considerable  river,  with 
waves  five  and  six  feet  high  sweeping  down  its  centre. 
We  formed  our  line  and  attempted  the  passage,  but 
were  thrown  back.  It  would  have  been  madness  to  try 
it  again,  and  we  turned  sorrowfully  back  to  the  last  ranch. 
Cotter  and  I  piloted  the  animals  over  to  the  barn,  and, 
upon  returning,  threw  a  rope  to  our  friends  upon  the  other 
side,  and  were  drawn  through  the  swift  water. 

In  the  ranch  house  we  found  two  bachelors,  t5rpical 
California  partners,  who  were  quietly  partaking  of  their 
supper  of  bacon,  fried  onions,  Japanese  tea,  and  biscuits, 
which,  like  "  Harry  York's,"  had  too  much  saleratus.  We 
stood  upon  their  threshold  awhile  and  dripped,  quite  a 
rill  descending  over  the  two  steps,  trickling  down  the 
door  yard  as  a  new  fork  of  the  Chowchilla. 

We  asked  for  supper  and  shelter,  but  were  met  with 
such  a  gruff,  inhospitable  reply  that  we  lost  all  sense  of 


176  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

modesty,  and  walked  in  with  all  our  moisture.  "We 
stretched  a  rope  across  the  middle  of  the  sitting-room 
before  a  huge  fire  in  an  open  chimney,  then,  stripping 
ourselves  to  the  buff,  we  hung  up  our  steaming  clothes 
upon  the  line,  and  turned  solemnly  round  and  round 
before  the  fire,  drying  our  persons. 

In  the  mean  while  our  inhospitable  landlords  made  the 
best  of  the  situation,  and  proceeded  to  achieve  more 
onions  and  more  saleratus  biscuit  for  our  entertainment. 

Upon  our  departure  in  the  morning  the  generous  rancher 
charged  us  first-class  hotel  prices. 

The  flood  had  utterly  disappeared,  and  we  passed  over 
the  Chowchilla  with  surprise  and  dry  shoes. 

At  Mariposa  we  parted  from  Clark,  and  devoted  two 
whole  days  to  struggling  through  the  mud  of  San  Joaquin 
Valley  to  San  Francisco,  where  we  arrived,  wet  and  ex- 
hausted, just  in  time  to  get  on  board  the  New  York 
steamer. 

On  the  morning  of  the  twelfth  day  Gardner  and  I 
seated  ourselves  under  the  grateful  shadow  of  palm-trees, 
a  bewitching  black-and-tan  sister  thrumming  her  guitar 
while  the  chocolate  for  our  breakfast  boiled.  The  slum- 
berous haze  of  the  tropics  hung  over  Lake  Nicaragua,  but 
high  above  its  indistinct  pearly  veil  rose  the  smooth  cone 
of  the  volcano  of  Omatepec,  robed  in  a  cover  of  pale  emer- 
ald green.  Warmth,  repose,  the  verdure  of  eternal  spring, 
the  poetical  whisper  of  palms,  the  heavy  odor  of  the 
tropical  blooms,  banished  the  grand  cold  fury  of  the  Sierra, 
which  had  left  a  permanent  chill  in  our  bones. 


MERCED   R AMBLINGS.  177 


IX. 

MEECED   EAMBLINGS. 

Delightful  oaks  cast  protecting  shadows  over  our 
camp  on  the  1st  of  June,  1866.  Just  beyond  a  little 
cook-fire  where  Hoover  was  preparing  his  mind  and  pan 
for  an  omelet  stood  Mrs.  Fremont's  Mariposa  cottage, 
with  doors  and  windows  wide  open,  still  keeping  up 
its  air  of  hospitable  invitation,  though  now  deserted  and 
fallen  into  decay.  A  little  farther  on,  through  an  open- 
ing, a  few  clustered  roofs  and  chimneys  of  the  Bear  Val- 
ley village  showed  their  distant  red-brown  tint  among 
heavy  masses  of  green.  Eastward  swelled  up  a  great 
ridge,  upon  whose  grassy  slopes  were  rough  serpentine 
outcrops,  —  groups  of  pines,  and  oak-groves  with  pale 
green  foliage  and  clean  white  bark.  Under  the  roots  of 
this  famous  j\Iount  Bullion  have  been  riiined  those  o-dd 
veins  whose  treasure  enriched  so  few,  whose  promise 
allured  so  many. 

As  I  altogether  distrust  my  ability  to  speak  of  this 
region  without  sooner  or  later  alluding  to  a  certain 
discovery  of  some  scientific  value  which  I  once  made 
here,  I  deem  it  wise  frankly  to  tell  the  story  and  dis- 
charge my  mind  of  it" at  once,  and  if  possible  forever. 

In  the  winter  of  1863  I  came  to  Bear  Valley  as  the 
sole  occupant  of  a  stage-coach.  .  Tlie  Sierras  were  quite 
cloud-hidden,  and  desolation  such  as  drought  has  never 
before  or  since  been  able  to  make  reigned  in  dreary  mo- 
notony over  all  tlie  plains  from  Stockton  to  Hornitas. 


178  MOUNTAINEERING   IN   THE    SIERRA  NEVADA. 

Ordinarily  solitude  is  with  me  only  a  happy  synonyme 
for  content ;  but  throughout  that  ride  I  was  preyed  upon 
by  self-reproach,  and  in  an  aggravated  manner.  The  pale- 
ontologist of  our  survey,  my  senior  in  rank  and  expe- 
rience, had  just  said  of  me,  rather  in  sorrow  than  in 
imkindness,  yet  with  unwonted  severity,  "  I  believe  that 
fellow  had  rather  sit  on  a  peak  all  day,  and  stare  at  those 
snow-mountains,  than  find  a  fossil  in  the  metamorphic 
Sierra  "  ;  and,  in  spite  of  me,  all  that  weary  ride  his  judg- 
ment rang  in  my  ear. 

Can  it  be  ?  I  asked  myself ;  has  a  student  of  geology 
so  far  forgotten  his  devotion  to  science  ?  Am  I  really 
fallen  to  the  level  of  a  mere  nature-lover  ?  Later,  when 
evening  approached,  and  our  wheels  began  to  rumble  over 
upturned  edges  of  Sierra  slate,  every  jolt  seemed  aimed 
at  me,  every  thin  sharp  outcrop  appeared  risen  up  to 
preach  a  sermon  on  my  friend's  text. 

I  re-dedicated  myself  to  geology,  and  was  framing  a 
resolution  to  delve  for  that  greatly  important  but  missing 
link  of  evidence,  the  fossil  which  should  clear  up  an  old 
unsolved  riddle  of  upheaval  age,  when  over  to  east- 
ward a  fervid  crimson  light  smote  the  vapor-bank  and 
cleared  a  bright  pathway  through  to  the  peaks,  and  on  to 
a  pale  sea-green  sky.  Througli  this  gateway  of  rolling 
gold  and  red  cloud  the  summits  seemed  infinitely  high 
and  far,  their  stone  and  snow  hung  in  the  sky  with 
lucent  delicacy  of  hue,  brilliant  as  gems  yet  soft  as  air,  — 
a  mosaic  of  amethyst  and  opal  transfigured  with  passion- 
ate light,  as  gloriously  above  words  as  beyond  art.  Ob- 
solete shell-fishes  in  the  metamorphic  were  promptly 
forgotten,  and  during  those  lingering  moments,  while  peak 
after  peak  flushed  and  faded  back  into  recesses  of  the 
heavens,  I  forgot  what  paleontological  unworthiness  was 
loading  me  down,  becoming  finally  quite  jolly  of  heart. 


MERCED   R AMBLINGS.  179 

But  for  many  days  thereafter  I  did  search  and  hope, 
leaving  no  stone  unturned,  and  usually  going  so  far  as  to 
break  them  open.  Indeed,  my  third  hammer  and  I  were 
losing  temper  together,  when  one  noon  I  was  tired  and 
sat  down  to  rest  and  lunch  in  the  bottom  of  Hell's 
Hollow,  a  canon  whose  profound  uninterestingness  is 
quite  beyond  portrayal.  Shut  in  by  great  monotonous 
slopes  and  innumerable  spurs,  each  the  exact  fac-simile  of 
the  other;  with  no  distance,  no  faintest  suggestion  of  a 
snow-peak,  only  a  lofty  chaparral  ridge  sweeping  around, 
cutting  off  all  eastern  lookout;  with  a  few  disordered 
boulders  tumbled  pell-mell  into  the  bed  of  a  feeble  brook- 
let of  bitter  water,  —  it  seemed  to  me  the  place  of  places 
for  a  fossil.  Here  was  nadir,  the  snow-capped  zenith  of 
my  heart  banished  even  from  sight.  A  swallow  of  tepid 
alkaline  water,  with  which  I  crowned  the  frugal  and 
appropriate  lunch,  burned  my  throat,  and  completed  the 
misery  of  the  occasion. 

Jagged  outcrops  of  slate  cut  through  vulgar  gold-dirt 
at  my  feet.  Picking  up  my  hammer  to  turn  homeward, 
I  noticed  in  the  rock  an  object  about  the  size  and  shape 
of  a  small  cigar.  It  was  the  fossil,  the  object  for  which 
science  had  searched  and  yearned  and  despaired  !  There 
he  reclined  comfortably  upon  his  side,  half  bedded  in 
luxuriously  fine-grained  argillaceous  material,  —  a  plump 
pampered  cephalopoda  (if  it  is  cephalopoda),  whom  the 
terrible  ordeal  of  metamorphism  had  spared.  I  knelt  and 
observed  the  radiating  structure  as  Avell  as  the  charac- 
teristic central  cavity,  and  assured  myself  it  was  beyond 
doubt  he.  The  age  of  the  gold-belt  was  discovered !  I 
was  at  pains  to  chip  my  victim  out  whole,  and  when  he 
chose  to  break  in  two  was  easily  consoled,  reflecting  that 
he  would  do  as  well  oumrned  tooether. 

I  knew  this  mollusk  perfectly  by  sight,  could  remember 


180  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

liow  he  looked  on  half  a  dozen  plates  of  fossils,  but  I 
failed  exactly  to  recollect  his  name.  It  troubled  me  that 
I  could  come  so  near  uttering  without  ever  precisely  hit- 
ting upon  it.  In  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  I  judged  it  full 
time  for  my  joy  to  begin. 

Down  the  perspective  of  years  I  could  see  before  me 
spectacled  wise  men  of  some  scientific  society,  and  one 
who  pronounced  my  obituary,  ending  thus  :  "  In  summing 
up  the  character  and  labors  of  this  fallen  follower  of 
science,  let  it  never  be  forgotten  that  he  discovered  the 
cephalopoda  "  ;  and  perhaps,  I  mused,  they  will  put  over 
me  a  slab  of  fossil  rain-drops,  those  eternally  embalmed 
tears  of  nature. 

But  all  this  came  and  went  without  the  longed-for 
elation.  There  was  no  doubt  I  was  not  so  happy  as  I 
thought  I  should  be. 

Once  in  after  years  I  met  an  aged  German  paleontol- 
ogist, fresh  from  his  fatherland,  where  through  threescore 
years  and  ten  his  soul  had  fattened  on  Solenhofen  lime- 
stone and  effete  shells  from  many  and  wdde-spread  strata. 

We  were  introduced. 

"  Ach  ! "  he  said,  with  a  kindle  of  enthusiasm,  "  I  have 
pleasure  you  to  meet,  when  it  -is  you  which  the  cephalo- 
poda discovered  has." 

Then  turning  to  one  who  enacted  the  part  of  Gany- 
mede, he  remarked,  "  Zwei  lager." 

Now,  with  freed  mind,  I  should  say  something  of  the 
foot-hills  about  our  camp  as  they  looked  in  June.  Once 
before,  the  reader  may  remember,  I  pictured  their  autumn 
garb. 

It  has  become  a  fixed  habit  with  me  to  climb  Mount 
Bullion  whenever  I  get  a  chance.  My  winter  Sundays 
were  many  times  spent  there  in  a  peace  and  repose  wdiich 
Bear  Valley  village  did  not  afford ;  for  that  hamlet  gave 


MERCED   RAMBLINGS.  181 

itself  up,  after  the  Saturday  night's  sleep,  to  a  day  of  hellish 
jocularity.  The  town  ]3assed  through  a  period  of  horse- 
racing,  noisy  quarrelsome  drinking,  and  disorderly  ser- 
vice of  Satan ;  then  an  hour  in  which  the  Spaniard  loved 
and  "treated"  the  "Americano."  Later  the  Americano 
kicked  the  "  damned  Greaser  "  out  of  town.  Manly  forms 
slept  serenely  under  steps,  and  the  few  "  gentlemen  of  the 
old  school "  steadied  themselves  against  the  bar-room  door- 
posts, and  in  ingenious  language  told  of  the  good  old 
pandemonium  of  1849. 

Thus  Mount  Bullion  came  to  mean  for  me  a  Sabbath 
retreat  over  wdiich  heaven  arched  pure  and  blue ;  silent 
hours  (marked  by  the  slow  sun)  passing  sacredly  by  in 
presence  of  nature  and  of  God. 

So  now  in  June  I  climbed  on  a  Sunday  morning  to  my 
old  retreat,  found  the  same  stone  seat  with  leaning  oak- 
tree  back  and  wide  low  canopy  of  boughs.  A  little  down 
to  the  left,  welling  among  tufts  of  grass  and  waving 
tulips,  is  the  spring  which  Mrs.  Fremont  found  for  her 
camp -ground.  North  and  south  for  miles  extends  our 
ridge  in  gently  rising  or  falling  outline,  its  top  broadly 
round,  and  for  the  most  part  an  open  oak-grove  with 
grass  carpet  and  mountain  flowers  in  wayward  loveliness 
of  growth.  West,  you  overlook  a  wide  panorama;  oak 
and  pine  mottled  foot-hills  with  rusty  groundwork  and 
cloudings  of  green  wander  down  in  rolling  lines  to  the 
ripe  plain  ;  beyond  are  plains,  then  coast  ranges,  rising  in 
peaks,  or  curved  down  in  passes,  through  which  gray  banks 
of  fog  drift  in  and  vanish  before  the  hot  air  of  the  plains. 
East,  the  Sierra  slope  is  rent  and  gashed  in  a  wilderness 
of  canons,  yawning  deep  and  savage.  Miles  of  chaparral 
tangle  in  dense  growth  over  walls  and  spurs,  covering 
with  kindly  olive-green  the  staring  red  of  riven  mountain- 
side and  gashed  earth.     Beyond  this  swells  up  the  more 


182  MOUNTAINEERING  IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

refined  plateau  and  hill  country  made  of  granite  and 
trimmed  with  pine,  bold  domes  rising  above  the  green 
cover ;  and  there  the  sharp  terrible  front  of  El  Capitan, 
guarding  Yosemite  and  looking  down  into  its  purple  gulf. 
Beyond,  again,  are  the  peaks,  and  among  them  one  looms 
sharpest.  It  is  that  Obelisk  from  which  the  great  storm 
drove  Cotter  and  me  in  1864  We  were  now  bound  to 
push  there  as  soon  as  grass  should  grow  among  the  upper 
canons. 

The  air  around  my  Sunday  mountain  in  June  is  dry, 
bland,  and  fragrant ;  a  full  sunlight  ripens  it  to  a  perfect 
temperature,  giving  you  at  once  stimulus  and  rest.  You 
sleep  in  it  without  fear  of  dew,  and  no  excess  of  hot  or 
cold  breaks  up  the  even  flow  of  balmy  delight.  You  see 
the  wild  tulips  open,  and  watch  wind-ripples  course  over 
slopes  of  thick-standing  grass-blades.  Birds,  so  rare  on 
plains  or  pine-hills,  here  sing  you  their  fullest,  and  enjoy 
with  you  the  soft  white  light,  or  come  to  see  you  in  your 
chosen  shadow  and  bathe  in  your  spring. 

Mountain  oaks,  less  wonderful  than  great  straight  pines, 
but  altogether  domestic  in  their  generous  way  of  reaching 
out  low  long  boughs,  roofing  in  spots  of  shade,  are  the 
only  trees  on  the  Pacific  slope  wdiich  seem  to  me  at  aU 
allied  to  men ;  and  these  quiet  foot-hill  summits,  these 
islands  of  modest,  lovely  verdure  floating  in  an  ocean  of 
sunlight,  lifted  enough  above  San  Joaquin  plains  to  reach 
pure  high  air  and  thrill  your  blood  and  brain  with  moun- 
tain oxygen,  are  yet  far  enough  below  the  rugged  wild- 
ness  of  pine  and  ice  and  rock  to  leave  you  in  peace,  and 
not  forever  challenge  you  to  combat.  They  are  almost  the 
only  places  in  the  Sierras  impressing  me  as  rightly  fitted 
for  human  company.  I  cannot  find  in  wholesale  vine- 
yards and  ranches  dotted  along  the  Sierra  foot  anything 
which  savors  of  the  eternal  indigenous  perfume  of  home. 


MERCED   RAMBLINGS.  183 

Tliey  are  scenes  of  speculation  and  thrift,  of  immense 
enterprise  and  comfort,  with  no  end  of  fences  and  square 
miles  of  grain,  with  here  and  there  astounding  specimens 
of  modern  upholstery,  to  say  nothing  of  pianos  with  elabo- 
rate legs  and  always  discordant  keys  ;  but  they  never  com- 
fort the  soul  with  that  air  of  sacred  household  reserve,  of 
simple  human  poetry,  which  elsewhere  greets  you  under 
plainer  roofs,  and  broods  over  your  days  and  nights 
familiarly. 

Here  on  these  still  summits  the  oaks  lock  their  arms 
and  gather  in  groves  around  open  slopes  of  natural  park, 
and  you  are  at  home.  A  cottage  or  a  castle  would  seem 
in  keeping,  nor  would  the  savage  gorges  and  snow-capped 
Sierras  overcome  the  sober  kindliness  of  these  affectionate 
trees.  It  is  almost  as  hard  now,  as  I  ^vrite,  to  turn  my 
back  on  Mount  Bullion  and  descend  to  camp  again,  as  it 
was  that  afternoon  in  1866. 

Evening  and  supper  were  at  hand.  Hoover  having 
achieved  a  repast  of  rabbit-pie,  with  salad  from  the  Ital- 
ian garden  near  at  hand.  It  added  no  little  to  my  peace 
that  two  obese  squaws  from  the  neighboring  rancheria 
had  come  and  squatted  in  silence  on  either  side  of  our 
camp-fire,  addiiig  their  statuesque  sobriety  and  fire-flushed 
bronze  to  the  dusky  druidical  scene. 

To  be  welcomed  at  White  and  Hatch's  next  evening 
was  reward  for  our  dusty  ride,  and  over  the  next  day's 
familiar  trail  we  hurried  to  Clark's,  there  again  finding 
friends  who  took  us  by  the  hand.  Another  day's  end 
found  us  within  the  Yosemite,  and  there  for  a  week  we 
walked  and  rode,  studied  and  looked,  revisiting  all  our  old 
points,  lingering  hours  here  and  half-days  there,  to  com- 
plete within  our  minds  the  conception  of  this  place.  My 
chief  has  written  so  fully  in  his  charming  Yosemite  book 
of  all  main  facts  and  details,  that  I  would  not,  if  I  could, 
rehearse  them  here. 


184  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

What  sentiment,  what  idea,  does  this  wonder-valley 
leave  upon  the  earnest  observer  ?  what  impression  does  it 
leave  upon  his  heart  ? 

From  some  up-surging  crag  upon  its  brink  you  look 
out  over  wide  expanse  of  granite  swells,  upon  whose  solid 
surface  the  firs  climb  and  cluster,  and  afar  on  the  sky- 
line only  darken  together  in  one  deep  green  cover.  Up- 
ward heave  the  eastern  ridges ;  above  them  looms  a  white 
rank  of  peaks.  Into  this  plateau  is  rent  a  chasm;  the 
fresh-splintered  granite  falls  down,  down,  thousands  of  feet 
in  sheer  blank  faces  or  giant  crags  broken  in  cleft  and 
stair,  gorge  and  bluff,  down  till  they  sink  under  that 
winding  ribbon  of  park  with  its  flash  of  river  among  sun- 
lit grass,  its  darkness,  where  within  shadows  of  jutting 
wall  cloud-like  gather  the  pine  companies,  or,  in  summer 
opening,  stand  oak  and  cottonwood,  casting  together  their 
lengthening  shadow  over  meadow  and  pool.  The  falls, 
like  torrents  of  snow,  pour  in  white  lines  over  purpled 
precipice,  or,  as  the  wind  wills,  float  and  drift  in  vanish- 
ing film  of  airy  lacework. 

Two  leading  ideas  ^re  wrought  here  with  a  force  hardly 
to  be  seen  elsewhere.  First,  the  titanic  power,  the  awful 
stress,  which  has  rent  this  solid  table-land  of  granite  in 
twain ;  secondly,  tlie  magical  faculty  displayed  by  vege- 
tation in  redeeming  the  aspect  of  wreck  and  masking 
a  vast  geological  tragedy  behind  draperies  of  fresh  and 
living  green.  I  can  never  cease  marvelling  how  all  this 
terrible  crush  and  sundering  is  made  fair,  even  lovely, 
by  meadow,  by  wandering  groves,  and  by  those  climbing 
files  of  pine  which  thread  every  gorge  and  camp  in  armies 
over  every  brink;  nor  can  I  ever  banish  from  memory 
another  gorge  and  fall,  that  of  the  Shoshone  in  Idaho,  a 
sketch  of  which  may  help  the  reader  to  see  more  vividly 
those  peculiarities  of  color  and  sentiment  that  make 
Yosemite  so  unique. 


MERCED   RAMBLINGS.  185 

The  Snake  or  Lewis's  Fork  of  the  Columbia  Eiver  drains 
an  oval  basin,  tlie  extent  of  whose  longer  axis  measures 
about  four  hundred  miles  westw^ard  from  the  base  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains  across  Idaho  and  into  the  middle 
of  Oregon,  and  whose  breadth,  in  the  direction  of  the 
meridian,  averages  about  seventy  miles.  Irregular  chains 
of  mountains  bound  it  in  every  direction,  piling  up  in  a 
few  places  to  an  elevation  of  nine  thousand  feet.  The 
surface  of  this  basin  is  unbroken  by  any  considerable 
peak.  Here  and  there,  knobs,  belonging  to  the  earlier 
geological  formations,  rise  above  its  level ,  and,  in  a  few 
instances,  dome-like  mounds  of  volcanic  rock  are  lifted 
from  the  expanse.  It  has  an  inclination  from  east  to 
west,  and  a  quite  perceptible  sag  along  the  middle  line. 
In  general  outline,  the  geology  of  the  region  is  simple. 
Its  bounding  ranges  were  chiefly  blocked  out  at  the 
period  of  Jurassic  upheaval,  when  the  Sierra  Nevada  and 
Wahsatch  Mountains  were  folded.  Masses  of  upheaved 
granite,  with  overlying  slates  and  limestones,  form  the 
main  materials  of  the  cordon  of  surrounding  hills.  During 
the  Cretaceous  and  Tertiary  periods,  the  entire  basin,  from 
the  Rocky  Mountains  to  the  Blue  Mountains  of  Oregon, 
was  a  fresh-water  lake,  on  whose  bottom  was  deposited  a 
curious  succession  of  sand  and  clay-beds,  including,  near 
the  surface,  a  layer  of  white,  infusorial  silica.  At  the 
exposures  of  these  rocks  in  the  canon-walls  of  the  present 
drainage  system  are  found  ample  evidences  of  the  kind  of 
life  which  flourished  in  the  lake  itself  and  lived  upon  its 
borders.  Savage  fishes,  of  the  garpike  type,  and  vast 
numbers  of  cyprinoids,  together  with  mollusks,  are  among 
the  prominent  water-fossils.  Enough  relics  of  the  land 
vegetation  remain  to  indicate  a  flora  of  a  sub-tropical 
climate ;  and  among  the  land-fossils  are  numerous  bones 
of  elephant,  camel,  horse,  elk,  and  deer. 


186  MOUNTAINEERING   IN   THE   SIERRA   NEVADA. 

The  savant  to  whose  tender  mercies  these  disjecta 
memhra  have  been  committed,  finds  in  the  molluscan 
life  the  most  recent  types  yet  discovered  in  the  Ameri- 
can Tertiaries,  —  forms  closely  allied  to  existing  Asiatic 
species.  How  and  wherefore  this  lake  dried  np,  and  gave 
place  to  the  present  barren  wilderness  of  sand  and  sage, 
is  one  of  those  profound  conundrums  of  nature  yet  un- 
guessed  by  geologists.  From  being  a  wide  and  beautiful 
expanse  of  water,  edged  by  winding  mountain-shores,  with 
forest-clad  slopes  containing  a  fauna  whose  remains  are 
now  charming  those  light-minded  fellows,  the  paleontolo- 
gists, the  scene  has  entirely  changed,  and  a  monotonous, 
blank  desert  spreads  itself  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach. 
Only  here  and  there,  near  the  snowy  mountain-tops,  a  bit 
of  cool  green  contrasts  refreshingly  with  the  sterile  uni- 
formity of  the  plain.  During  the  period  of  desiccation, 
perhaps  in  a  measure  accounting  for  it,  a  general  flood  of 
lava  poured  down  from  the  mountains  and  deluged  nearly 
tlie  whole  Snake  basin.  The  chief  sources  of  this  lava 
lay  at  the  eastern  edge,  where  subsequent  erosion  has 
failed  to  level  several  commanding  groups  of  volcanic 
peaks.  The  three  buttes  and  three  tetons  mark  centres 
of  flow.  Eemarkable  features  of  the  volcanic  period  were 
the  sheets  of  basaltic  lava  which  closed  the  eruptive  era, 
and  in  thin,  continuous  layers  overspread  the  plain  for 
three  hundred  miles.  The  earlier  flows  extended. farthest 
to  the  west.  The  racj^^ed,  broken  terminations  of  the 
later  sheets  recede  successively  eastward,  in  a  broad, 
gradual  stairway ;  so  that  the  present  topography  of  the 
basin  is  a  gently  inclined  field  of  basaltic  lava,  sinking  to 
the  west,  and  finally,  by  a  series  of  terraced  steps,  de- 
scending to  the  level  of  lacustrine  sand-rocks  which  mark 
the  bottom  of  the  ancient  lake  and  cover  the  plain  west- 
ward into  Oreson. 


MERCED  R AMBLINGS.  187 

The  head-waters  of  the  Snake  Eiver,  gathering  snow- 
drainage  from  a  considerable  portion  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, find  their  way  througli  a  series  of  upland  valleys 
to  the  eastern  margin  of  the  Snake  plain,  and  there  gath- 
ering in  one  main  stream  flow  westward,  occupying  a 
gradually  deepening  canon  ;  a  narrow,  dark  gorge,  water- 
worn  througli  the  thin  sheets  of  basalt,  cutting  down  as 
it  proceeds  to  the  westward,  until,  in  longitude  114°  20', 
it  has  worn  seven  hundred  feet  into  the  lava.  Several 
tributaries  flowing  through  similar  though  less  profound 
canons  join  the  Snake  both  north  and  south.  From  the 
days  of  Lewis,  for  whom  this  Snake  or  Shoshone  Eiver 
was  originally  named,  up  to  the  present  day,  rumors  have 
been  current  of  cataracts  in  the  Snake  canon.  It  is 
curious  to  observe  that  all  the  earlier  accounts  estimate 
their  height  as  six  hundred  feet,  which  is  exactly  the 
figure  given  by  the  first  Jesuit  observers  of  Niagara. 
That  erratic  amateur  Indian,  Catlin,  actually  visited  these 
falls ;  and  his  account  of  them,  while  it  entirely  fails  to 
give  an  adequate  idea  of  their  formation  and  grandeur,  is 
nevertheless,  in  the  main,  truthful.  Since  the  mining 
development  of  Idaho,  several  parties  have  visited  and 
examined  the  Shoshone. 

In  October,  1868,  with  a  small  detachment  of  the 
United  States  Geological  Survey  of  the  40th  Parallel, 
the  writer  crossed  Goose  Creek  Mountains,  in  northern 
Utah,  and  descended  by  the  old  Fort  Boise  road  to  the 
level  of  the  Snake  plain.  A  gray,  opaque  haze  hung  close 
to  the  ground,  and  shut  out  all  distance.  The  monotony 
of  sage-desert  was  overpowering.  We  would  have  given 
anything  for  a  good  outlook ;  but  for  three  days  the 
mists  continued,  and  we  were  forced  to  amuse  ourselves 
by  chasing  occasional  antelopes. 

The  evening  we  camped  on  Rock  Creek  was  signal- 


188  MOUNTAINEERING   IN    THE   SIEKRA   NEVADA. 

ized  by  a  fierce  wind  from  the  northeast.  It  was  a  dry 
storm,  whicli  continued  with  tremendous  fury  through  the 
night,  dying  away  at  daybreak,  leaving  the  heavens  bril- 
liantly clear.  We  were  breakfasting  when  the  sun  rose, 
and  shortly  afterward,  mounting  into  the  saddle,  headed 
toward  the  canon  of  the  Shoshone.  The  air  was  cold 
and  clear.  The  remotest  mountain-peaks  uj^on  the 
horizon  could  be  distinctly  seen,  and  the  forlorn  de- 
tails of  their  brown  slopes  stared  at  us  as  through  a 
vacuum.  A  few  miles  in  front  the  smooth  surface  of 
the  plain  was  broken  by  a  ragged,  zigzag  line  of  black, 
which  marked  the  edge  of  the  farther  wall  of  the 
Snake  canon.  A  dull  throbbing  sound  greeted  us.  Its 
pulsations  were  deep,  and  seemed  to  proceed  from  the 
ground  beneath  our  feet.  Leaving  the  cavalry  to  bring 
up  the  wagon,  my  two  friends  and  I  galloped  on,  and 
were  quickly  upon  the  edge  of  the  canon-wall.  We 
looked  down  into  a  broad,  circular  excavation,  three 
quarters  of  a  mile  in  diameter,  and  nearly  seven  hundred 
feet  deep.  East  and  north,  over  the  edges  of  the  canon, 
we  looked  across  miles  and  miles  of  the  Snake  plain,  far 
on  to  the  blue  boundary  mountains.  The  w^all  of  the 
gorge  opposite  us,  like  the  cliff  at  our  feet,  sank  in  per- 
pendicular bluffs  nearly  to  the  level  of  the  river,  the 
broad  excavation  being  covered  by  rough  piles  of  black 
lava  and  rounded  domes  of  trachyte  rock.  An  horizon  as 
level  as  the  sea ;  a  circling  wall,  whose  sharp  edges  were 
here  and  there  battlemented  in  huge,  fortress-like  masses ; 
a  broad  river,  smooth  and  unruffled,  flowing  quietly  into 
the  middle  of  the  scene,  and  then  plunging  into  a  laby- 
rinth of  rocks,  tumbling  over  a  precipice  two  hundred 
feet  high,  and  moving  westward  in  a  still,  deep  current  to 
disappear  behind  a  black  promontory.  It  is  a  strange, 
savage  scene:    a  monotony  of  pale  blue  sky,  olive  and 


MERCED   RAMBLINGS.  189 

gray  stretches  of  desert,  frowning  walls  of  jetty  lava,  deep 
beryl-green  of  river-stretches,  reflecting,  here  and  there, 
the  intense  solemnity  of  the  cliffs,  and  in  the  centre  a 
dazzling  sheet  of  foam.  In  the  early  morning  light,  the 
shadows  of  the  cliffs  were  cast  over  half  the  basin,  defin- 
ing themselves  in  sharp  outline  here  and  there  on  the 
river.  Upon  the  foam  of  the  cataract  one  point  of  the 
rock  cast  a  cobalt-blue  shadow.  Where  the  river  flowed 
around  the  western  promontory,  it  w^as  wholly  in  shadow, 
and  of  a  deep  sea-green.  A  scanty  growth  of  coniferous 
trees  fringed  the  brink  of  the  lower  cliffs,  overhanging 
the  river.  Dead  barrenness  is  the  whole  sentiment  of  the 
scene.  The  mere  suggestion  of  trees  clinging  here  and 
there  along  the  walls  serves  rather  to  heighten  than  to 
relieve  the  forbidding  gloom  of  the  place.  Nor  does  the 
flashing  whiteness,  where  the  river  tears  itself  among  the 
rocky  islands,  or  rolls  in  spray  down  the  cliff,  brighten 
the  aspect.  In  contrast  with  its  brilliancy,  the  rocks 
seem  darker  and  more  wild.  The  descent  of  four  hun- 
dred feet,  from  our  stand-point  to  the  level  of  the  river 
above  the  falls,  has  to  be  made  by  a  narroAV,  winding 
path,  among  rough  ledges  of  lava.  We  were  obliged  to 
leave  our  wagon  at  the  summit,  and  pack  down  the  camp 
equipment  and  photographic  apparatus  upon  carefully  led 
mules.  By  midday  we  were  comfortably  camped  on  the 
margin  of  the  left  bank,  just  above  the  brink  of  the  falls. 
My  tent  was  pitched  upon  the  edge  of  a  cliff,  directly 
overhanging  the  rapids.  From  my  door  I  looked  over 
the  cataract,  and,  whenever  the  veil  of  mist  was  blown 
aside,  could  see  for  a  mile  down  the  river.  The  lower 
half  of  the  canon  is  excavated  in  a  gray,  porphyritic  tra- 
chyte. It  is  over  this  material  that  the  Snake  falls. 
Above  the  brink,  the  whole  breadth  of  the  river  is  broken 
by  a  dozen  small,  trachyte  islands,  which  the  water  has 


190  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

carved  into  fantastic  forms :  rounding  some  into  low 
domes,  sharpening  others  into  mere  pillars,  and  now  and 
then  wearing  out  deep  caves.  At  the  very  brink  of  the 
fall  a  few  twisted  evergreens  cling  with  their  roots  to  the 
rock,  and  lean  over  the  abyss  of  foam  with  something  of 
that  air  of  fatal  fascination  which  is  apt  to  take  posses- 
sion of  men. 

In  plan  the  fall  recurves  up  stream  in  a  deep  horseshoe, 
resembling  the  outline  of  Niagara.  The  total  breadth  is 
about  seven  hundred  feet,  and  the  greatest  height  of  the 
single  fall  about  one  hundred  and  ninety.  Among  the 
islands  above  the  brink  are  several  beautiful  cascades, 
where  portions  of  the  river  pour  over  in  lace-like  forms. 
The  whole  mass  of  cataract  is  one  ever-varying  sheet  of 
spray.  In  the  early  spring,  when  swollen  by  the  rapidly 
melted  snows,  the  river  pours  over  with  something  like 
the  grand  volume  of  Niagara,  but,  at  the  time  of  my  visit, 
it  was  wholly  white  foam.  Here  and  there,  along  the 
brink,  the  underlying  rock  shows  through,  and  among 
the  islands  shallow  green  pools  disclose  the  form  of  the 
underlying  trachyte.  Numberless  rough  shelves  break 
the  fall,  but  the  volume  is  so  great  that  they  are  only 
discovered  by  the  glancing  outward  of  the  foam.  The 
river  below  the  falls  is  very  deep.  The  right  bank  sinks 
into  the  water  in  a  clear,  sharp  precipice,  but  on  the  left 
side  a  narrow,  pebbly  beach  extends  along  the  foot  of  the 
cliff.  From  the  top  of  the  wall,  at  a  point  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  below  the  falls,  a  stream  has  gradually  worn  a  little 
stairway:  thick  growths  of  evergreens  have  huddled  to- 
gether in  this  ravine.  By  careful  climbing,  we  descended 
to  the  level  of  the  river.  The  trachytes  are  very  curiously 
worn  in  vertical  forms.  Here  and  there  an  obelisk,  either 
wholly  or  half  detached  from  the  caiion-wall,  juts  out  like 
a  buttress.     Farther  down,  these  projecting  masses  stand 


MERCED  RAMBLINGS.  191 

like  a  row  of  columns  uj^on  the  left  bank.  Above  them, 
a  solid  capping  of  black  lava  reaches  out  to  the  edge,  and 
overhangs  the  river  in  abrupt  black  precipices.  Wherever 
large  fields  of  basalt  have  overflowed  an  earlier  rock,  and 
erosion  has  afterward  laid  it  bare,  there  is  found  a  strong 
tendency  to  fracture  in  vertical  lines.  The  immense  ex- 
pansion of  the  upper  surface  from  heat  seems  to  cause 
deep  fissures  in  the  mass. 

Under  the  influence  of  the  cool  shadow  of  cliffs  and 
pine,  and  constant  percolating  of  surface-waters,  a  rare 
fertility  is  developed  in  the  ravines  opening  upon  the 
canon  shore.  A  luxuriance  of  ferns  and  mosses,  an 
almost  tropical  wealth  of  green  leaves  and  velvety  carpet- 
ing, line  the  banks.  There  are  no  rocks  at  the  base  of 
the  fall.  The  sheet  of  foam  plunges  almost  vertically  into 
a  dark,  beryl-green,  lake-like  expanse  of  the  river.  Im- 
mense volumes  of  foam  roll  up  from  the  cataract-base, 
and,  whirling  about  in  the  eddying  winds,  rise  often  a 
thousand  feet  in  the  air.  When  the  wind  blows  down 
the  canon,  a  gray  mist  obscures  the  river  for  half  a  mile ; 
and  when,  as  is  usually  the  case  in  the  afternoon,  the 
breezes  blow  eastward,  the  foam-cloud  curls  over  the 
^- brink  of  the  fall,  and  hangs  like  a  veil  over  the  upper 
river.  On  what  conditions  depends  the  height  to  which 
the  foam-cloud  rises  from  the  base  of  the  fall,  it  is  ap- 
parently impossible  to  determine.  Without  the  slightest 
wind,  the  cloud  of  spray  often  rises  several  hundred  feet 
above  the  canon-wall,  and  again,  with  apparently  the 
same  conditions  of  river  and  atmosphere,  it  hardly  reaches 
the  brink.  Incessant  roar,  reinforced  by  a  thousand 
echoes,  fills  the  canon.  Out  of  this  monotone,  from  time 
to  time,  rise  strange,  wild  sounds,  and  now  and  then  may 
be  heard  a  slow,  measured  beat,  not  unlike  the  recurring 
fall  of  breakers.     From  the  white  front  of  the  cataract 


192  MOUNTAINEERING   IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

the  eye  constantly  wanders  up  to  the  black,  frowning  para- 
pet of  lava.  Angular  bastions  rise  sharply  from  the  gen- 
eral level  of  the  wail,  and  here  and  there  isolated  blocks, 
profiHng  upon  their  sky-line,  strikingly  recall  barbette 
batteries.  To  goad  one's  imagination  up  to  the  point  of 
perpetually  seeing  resemblances  of  everything  else  in  the 
forms  of  rocks,  is  the  most  vulgar  vice  of  travellers.  To 
refuse  to  see  the  architectural  suggestions  upon  the 
Snake  canon,  however,  is  to  administer  a  flat  snub  to 
one's  fancy.  The  whole  edge  of  the  canon  is  deeply  cleft 
in  vertical  crevasses.  The  actual  brink  is  usually  formed 
of  irregular  blocks  and  prisms  of  lava,  poised  upon  their 
ends  in  an  unstable  equilibrium,  ready  to  be  tumbled 
over  at  the  first  leverage  of  the  frost.  Hardly  an  hour 
passes  without  the  sudden  boom  of  one  of  those  rock- 
masses  falling  upon  the  ragged  debris  piles  below. 

Night  is  the  true  time  to  appreciate  the  full  force  of 
the  scene.  I  lay  and  watched  it  many  hours.  The 
broken  rim  of  the  basin  profiled  itself  upon  a  mass  of 
drifting  clouds  where  torn  openings  revealed  gleams  of 
pale  moonlight  and  bits  of  remote  sky  trembling  with 
misty  stars.  Intervals  of  light  and  blank  darkness  hur- 
riedly followed  each  other.  For  a  moment  the  blacky 
gorge  would  be  crowded  with  forms.  Tall  cliffs,  ramparts 
of  lava,  the  rugged  outlines  of  islands  huddled  together 
on  the  cataract's  brink,  faintly  luminous  foam  breaking 
over  black  rapids,  the  swift,  Avhite  leap  of  the  river,  and 
a  ghostly,  formless  mist  through  which  the  canon-walls 
and  far  reach  of  the  lower  river  were  veiled  and  unveiled 
again  and  again.  A  moment  of  this  strange  picture,  and 
then  a  rush  of  black  shadow,  when  nothing  could  be  seen 
but  the  breaks  in  the  clouds,  the  basin-rim,  and  a  vague, 
white  centre  in  the  general  darkness. 

After  sleeping  on  the  nightmarish  brink  of  the  falls,  it 


MERCED   RAMBLINGS.  193 

was  no  small  satisfaction  to  climb  out  of  this  Dantean 
gulf  and  find  myself  once  more  upon  a  pleasantly  prosaic 
foreground  of  sage.  Nothing  more  effectually  banishes  a 
melotragic  state  of  the  mind  than  the  obtrusive  ugliness 
and  abominable  smell  of  this  plant.  From  my  feet  a 
hundred  miles  of  it  stretched  eastward.  A  half-hour's 
walk  took  me  out  of  sight  of  the  canon,  and  as  the  wind 
blew  westward,  only  occasional  indistinct  pulsations  of 
the  fall  could  be  heard.  The  sky  was  bright  and  cloud- 
less, and  arched  in  cheerful  vacancy  over  the  meaningless 
disk  of  the  desert. 

I  walked  for  an  hour,  following  an  old  Indian  trail 
which  occasionally  approached  within  seeing  distance  of 
the  river,  and  then,  apparently  quite  satisfied,  diverged 
again  into  the  desert.  When  about  four  miles  from  the 
Shoshone,  it  bent  abruptly  to  the  north,  and  led  to  the 
canon  edge.  Here  again  the  narrow  gorge  widened  into 
a  broad  theatre,  surrounded,  as  before,  by  black  vertical 
walls,  and  crowded  over  its  whole  surface  by  rude  piles 
and  ridges  of  volcanic  rock.  The  river  entered  it  from 
the  east  through  a  magnificent  gateway  of  basalt,  and, 
having  reached  the  middle,  flowed  on  either  side  of  a  low, 
rocky  island,  and  plunges  in  two  falls  into  a  deep  green 
basin.  A  very  singular  ridge  of  the  basalt  projects  like 
an  arm  almost  across  the  river,  enclosincf  within  its  semi- 
circle  a  bowl  three  hundred  feet  in  diameter  and  two 
hundred  feet  deep.  Within  this  the  water  was  of  the 
same  peculiar  beryl-green,  dappled  here  and  there  by 
masses  of  foam  which  swim  around  and  around  with  a 
spiral  tendency  toward  the  centre.  To  the  left  of  the 
island  half  the  river  plunges  off  an  overhanging  lip,  and 
falls  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet,  the  whole  volume 
reaching  the  surface  of  the  basin  many  feet  from  the 
wall.     The  other  half  has  worn  away  the  edge,  and  de- 


194  MOUNT AINEEEING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

scends  in  a  tumbling  cascade  at  an  angle  of  about  forty- 
five  degrees.  The  river  at  this  point  has  not  yet  worn 
through  the  fields  of  basaltic  lava  which  form  the  upper 
four  hundred  feet  of  the  plain.  Between  the  two  falls  it 
cuts  through  the  remaining  beds  of  basalt,  and  has  eroded 
its  channel  a  hundred  feet  into  underlying  porphyritic 
trachyte.  The  trachyte  erodes  far  more  easily  than  the 
basalt,  and  its  resultant  forms  are  quite  unlike  those  of 
the  black  lava.  The  trachyte  islands  and  walls  are  ex- 
cavated here  and  there  in  deep  caves,  leaving  island 
masses  in  the  forms  of  mounds  and  towers.  In  general, 
spherical  outlines  predominate,  while  the  erosion  of  the 
basalt  results  always  in  sharp,  perpendicular  cliffs,  with  a 
steeply  inclined  talus  of  ragged  debris. 

The  cliffs  around  the  upper  cataract  are  inferior  to 
those  of  the  Shoshone.  AVhile  the  level  of  the  upper 
plain  remains  nearly  the  same,  the  river  constantly  deep- 
ens the  channe  in  its  westward  course.  In  returning 
from  the  upper  fall,  I  attempted  to  climb  along  the  very 
edge  of  the  cliff,  in  order  to  study  carefully  the  habits  of 
the  basalt ;  but  I  found  myself  in  a  labyrinth  of  side  cre- 
"vasses  which  were  cut  into  the  plain  from  a  hundred  to  a 
thousand  feet  back  from  the  main  wall.  These  recesses 
were  usually  in  the  form  of  an  amphitheatre,  with  black 
walls  two  hundred  feet  high,  and  a  bottom  filled  with 
immense  fragments  of  basalt  rudely  piled  together. 

By  dint  of  hard  climbing  I  reached  the  actual  brink  in 
a  few  places,  and  saw  the  same  general  features  each 
time:  the  canon  successively  widening  and  narrowing, 
its  walls  here  and  there  approaching  each  other  and 
standing  like  pillars  of  a  gateway;  the  river  alternately 
flowing  along  smooth,  placid  reaches  of  level,  and  rush- 
ing swiftly  down  rocky  cascades.  Here  and  there  along 
the  cliff  are  disclosed  mouths  of  black  caverns,  where 


MERCED  R AMBLINGS.  195 

the  lava  seems  to-  have  been  blown  up  in  the  form 
of  a  great  blister,  as  if  the  original  flow  had  poured  over 
some  pool  of  water,  and,  converted  into  steam  by  contact 
with  the  hot  rock,  had  been  blown  up  bubble-like  by  its 
immense  expansion.  I  continued  my  excursions  along 
the  canon  west  of  the  Shoshone.  About  a  mile  below 
the  fall  a  very  iine  promontory  juts  sharply  out  and  pro- 
jects nearly  to  the  middle  of  the  canon.  Climbing  with 
difficulty  along  its  toppling  crest,  I  reached  a  point 
which  I  found  composed  of  immense  angular  fragi;nents 
piled  up  in  dangerous  poise.  Eastward,  the  battlemented 
rocks  around  the  falls  limited  the  view ;  but  westward  I 
could  see  down  long  reaches  of  river,  where  islands  of 
trachyte  rose  above  white  cascades.  A  peculiar  and  fine 
effect  is  noticeable  upon  the  river  during  all  the  midday. 
The  shadow  of  the  southern  cliff  is  cast  down  here  and 
there,  completely  darkening  the  river,  but  often  defining 
itself  upon  the  water.  The  contrast  between  the  rich, 
gem-like  green  of  the  sunlit  portions  and  the  deep  violet 
shadow  of  the  cliff  is  of  extreme  beauty.  The  Snake 
River  deriving  its  volume  wholly  from  the  melting  of 
the  mountain  snows,  is  a  direct  gauge  of  the  annual 
advance  of  the  sun.  In  June  and  July  it  is  a  tremen- 
dous torrent,  carrying  a  full  half  of  the  Columbia.  From 
the  middle  of  July  it  constantly  shrinks,  reaching  its 
minimum  in  midwinter.  At  the  lowest,  it  is  a  river 
equal  to  the  Sacramento  or  Connecticut. 

After  ten  days  devoted  to  walking  around  the  neigh- 
borhood and  studying  the  falls  and  rocks,  we  climbed  to 
our  w^agon,  and  rested  for  a  farewell  look  at  the  gorge. 
It  was  with  great  relief  that  we  breathed  the  free  air  of 
the  plain,  and  turned  from  the  rocky  canon  wdiere  dark- 
ness, and  roar,  and  perpetual  cliffs  had  bounded  our 
senses,  and  headed  southward,  across  the  noiseless  plain. 


196  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

Far  ahead  rose  a  lofty,  blue  barrier,  a  mountain- wall, 
marbled  upon  its  summit  by  flecks  of  perpetual  snow. 
A  deep  notch  in  its  profile  opened  a  gateway.  Toward 
this,  for  leagues  ahead  of  us,  a  white  thread  in  the  gray 
desert  marked  the  winding  of  our  road.  Those  sensi- 
tively organized  creatures,  the  mules,  thrilled  wdth  relief 
at  their  escape  from  the  canons,  pressed  forward  with  a 
vigor  that  utterly  silenced  the  customary  poppings  of  the 
whip,  and  expurgated  the  language  of  the  driver  from 
his  usual  breaking  of  the  Third  Commandment. 

The  three  great  falls  of  America,  —  Niagara,  Shoshone, 
and  Yosemite,  —  all  happily  bearing  Indian  names,  are 
as  characteristically  different  as  possible.  There  seems 
little  left  for  a  cataract  to  express.  Niagara  rolls  forward 
with  something  like  the  inexorable  sway  of  a  natural 
law.  It  is  force,  power ;  forever  banishing  before  its  irre- 
sistible rush  all  ideas  of  restraint. 

No  sheltering  pine  or  mountain  distance  of  up-piled 
Sierras  guards  the  apj)roach  to  the  Shoshone.  You  ride 
upon  a  waste,  —  the  pale  earth  stretched  in  desolation. 
Suddenly  you  stand  upon  a  brink,  as  if  the  earth  had 
yawned.  Black  walls  flank  the  abyss.  Deep  in  the 
bed  a  great  river  fights  its  way  through  labyrinths  of 
blackened  ruins,  and  plunges  in  foaming  whiteness  over 
a  cliff  of  lava.  You  turn  from  the  brink  as  from  a  fright- 
ful glimpse  of  the  Inferno,  and  when  you  have  gone  a 
mile  the  earth  seems  to  have  closed  again ;  every  trace 
of  canon  has  vanished,  and  the  stillness  of  the  desert 
reigns. 

As  you  stand  at  the  base  of  those  cool  w^alls  of  granite 
that  rise  to  the  clouds  from  the  green  floor  of  Yosemite, 
a  beautiful  park,  carpeted  with  verdure,  expands  from 
your  feet.  Vast  and  stately  pines  band  with  their  shadows 
the  sunny  reaches  of  the  pure  Merced.     An  arch  of  blue 


MERCED  RAMBLINGS.  197 

bridges  over  from  cliff  to  cliff.  From  the  far  summit  of 
a  wall  of  pearly  granite,  over  stains  of  purple  and  yellow, 
—  leaping,  as  it  were,  from  the  very  cloud,  —  falls  a  silver 
scarf,  light,  lace-like,  gTaceful,  luminous,  swayed  by  the 
wind. 

The  cliffs'  repose  is  undisturbed  by  the  silvery  fall 
whose  endlessly  varying  forms  of  wind-tossed  spray  lend 
an  element  of  life  to  what  would  otherwise  be  masses  of 
inanimate  stone.  The  Yosemite  is  a  grace.  It  is  an 
adornment.  It  is  a  ray  of  light  on  the  solid  front  of  the 
precipice. 

From  Yosemite  our  course  was  bent  toward  the  Merced 
Obelisk.  An  afternoon  in  early  July  brought  us  to  camp 
in  the  self-same  spot  where  Cotter  and  I  had  bivouacked 
in  the  storm  more  than  two  years  before. 

I  remembered  the  crash  and  wail  of  those  two  dreary 
nights,  the  thunderous  fulness  of  tempest  beating  upon 
cliffs,  and  the  stealthy,  silent  snow-burial ;  and  perhaps 
to  the  memory  of  that  bitter  experience  was  added  the 
contrasting  force  of  to-day's  beauty. 

A  warm  afternoon  sun  poured  through  cloudless  skies 
into  one  rocky  amphitheatre.  The  little  alpine  meadow 
and  full  arrowy  brook  were  flanked  upon  either  side  by 
broad  rounded  masses  of  granite,  and  margined  by  groups 
of  vigorous  upland  trees;  firs  for  the  most  part,  but 
watched  over  here  and  there  by  towering  pines  and  great 
aged  junipers  whose  massive  red  trunks  seemed  welded 
to  the  very  stone. 

It  was  altogether  exhilarating;  even  Little  Billy,  the 
gray  horse,  found  it  so,  and  devoted  more  time  to  prac- 
tical jokes  upon  thick-headed  mules  than  to  the  rich  and 
tempting  verdure  ;  nor  did  the  high,  cool  air  banish  from 
his  tender  heart  a  glowing  Platonic  affection  for  our  brown 
mare  SaUy. 


198  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

To  the  ripened  charms  of  middle  age  Sally  united 
something  more  than  the  memory  of  youth ;  she  was  re- 
markably plump  and  well-preserved ;  her  figure  firm  and 
elastic,  and  she  did  not  hesitate  to  display  it  with  many 
little  arts.  In  presence  of  her  favored  Billy  she  drew 
deep  sighs,  and  had  quite  an  irresistible  fashion  of  turn- 
ing sadly  aside  and  moving  away  among  trees  alone,  as 
if  she  had  no  one  to  love  her,  —  a  wile  never  failing  to 

brins  him  to  her  side  and  elicit  such  attention  as  smooth- 
es 

ing  her  mane  or  even  a  pressure  of  lips  upon  her  brow. 
And  woe  to  the  emotional  mule  who  ventured  to  cross 
our  little  meadow  just  to  feel  for  a  moment  the  soft  com- 
fort of  her  presence.  With  the  bitterness  of  a  rejected 
suit  he  always  bore  away  shoe-prints  of  jealous  Billy. 

He  led  her  quietly  down  to  the  brook,  and  never  drank 
a ,  drop  until  the  mare  was  done ;  then  they  paid  a  call 
at  camp,  nosing  about  among  the  kettles  with  familiar 
freedom,  nibbling  playfully  at  dish-towel  and  coffee-pot, 
and  when  we  threw  sticks  at  them,  trotted  off  as  closely 
as  if  they  had  been  harnessed  together.  In  quiet  moon- 
lit hours,  before  I  went  to  bed,  I  saw  them  still  side  by 
side,  her  head  leaning  over  his  withers  ;  Billy  at  qui  vive 
staring  dramatically  with  pointed  ears  into  forest  depths, 
a  true  and  watchful  guardian. 

A  little  reconnoitering  had  shown  us  the  most  direct 
way  to  the  Obelisk,  whose  sharp  summit  looked  from  the 
moraine  to  west  of  us  as  grand  and  alluring  as  we  had 
ever  thought  it. 

There  was  in  our  hope  of  scaling  this  point  something 
more  than  mere  desire  to  master  a  difficult  peak.  It  was 
a  station  of  great  topographical  value,  the  apex  of  many 
triangles,  and,  more  than  all,  would  command  a  grander 
view  of  the  Merced  region  than  any  other  summit. 

July  11th,  about  five  P.  M.,  Gardner  aod  I  strapped 


MERCED   RAMBLINGS.  199 

packs  upon  our  shoulders.  My  friend's  load  consisted  of 
the  Temple  transit,  his  blanket,  and  a  great  tin  cup; 
mine  was  made  up  of  field-glass,  compass,  level,  blanket, 
and  provisions  for  both,  besides  the  barometer  which,  as 
usual,  I  slung  over  one  shoulder. 

For  the  first  time  that  year  we  found  ourselves  slowly 
zigzagging  to  and  fro,  following  a  grade  with  that  pecu- 
liarly deliberate  gait  to  which  mountaineering  experience 
very  soon  confines  one.  Black  firs  and  thick-clustered 
pines  covered  in  clumps  all  the  lower  slope,  but,  ascend- 
ing, we  came  more  and  more  into  oj)en  ground,  walking 
on  glacial  debris  among  trains  of  huge  boulders  and  occa- 
sional thickets  of  slender,  delicate  young  trees.  Emer- 
ging finally  into  open  granite  country,  we  came  full  in 
sight  of  our  goal,  whose  great  western  precipice  rose  sheer 
and  solid  above  us. 

From  the  south  base  of  the  Obelisk  a  sharp  mural 
ridge  curves  east,  surrounding  an  amphitheatre  whose 
sloping  rugged  sides  were  picturesquely  mottled  in  snow 
and  stone.  From  the  summit  of  this  ridge  we  knew  we 
should  look  over  into  the  upper  Merced  basin,  a  great 
billowy  granite  depression  lying  between  the  Merced 
group  and  Mount  Lyell;  the  birthplace  of  all  those  ice 
rivers  and  deep-canoned  torrents  which  join  in  the  Little 
Yosemite  and  form  the  river  Merced.  Toward  this  we 
pressed,  hurrying  rapidly,  as  the  sun  declined,  in  hopes 
of  making  our  point  before  darkness  should  obscure  the 
terra  incognita  beyond. 

It  put  us  at  our  best  to  hasten  over  the  rough,  rudely 
piled  blocks  and  up  cracks  among  solid  bluffs  of  granite, 
but  with  the  sun  fully  half  an  hour  high  we  reached 
the  Obelisk  foot  and  looked  from  our  ridge-top  eastward 
into  the  new  land. 

From  our  feet  granite  and  ice  in  steep,  roof-like  curves 


200  MOUNTAINEERING   IN   THE   SIEERA   NEVADA. 

fell  abruptly  down  to  the  Merced  Canon  brink,  and  be- 
yond, over  the  great  gulf,  rose  terraces  and  ridges  of 
sculptured  stone,  dressed  with  snow-field,  one  above  an- 
other, up  to  the  eastern  rank  of  peaks  whose  sharp  solid 
forms  were  still  in  full  light. 

From  below,  it  is  always  a  most  interesting  feature  of 
the  mountaineer's  daily  life  to  watch  fading  sunlight  upon 
the  summit-rocks  and  snow.  There  is  something  pecu- 
liarly charming  in  the  deep  carmine  flush  and  in  the  pale 
gradations  of  violet  and  cool  blue-purple  into  which  it 
successively  fades.  We  were  now  in  the  very  midst  of 
this  alpine  glow.  Our  rocky  amphitheatre  opening  directly 
to  the  sun  was  crowded  full  of  this  pure  red  light ;  snow- 
fields  warmed  to  deepest  rose,  gnarled  stems  of  dead  pines 
were  dark  vermilion,  the  rocks  yellow,  and  the  vast  body 
of  the  Obelisk  at  our  left  one  spire  of  gold  piercing  the 
sapphire  zenith.  Eastward,  far  below  us,  the  Illilluette 
basin  lay  in  a  peculiarly  mild  haze,  its  deep  carpet  of 
forest  warmed  into  faint  bronze,  and  the  bare  domes  and 
rounded  granite  ridges  which  everywhere  rise  above  the 
trees  were  yellow,  of  a  soft  creamy  tint.  Farther  down, 
every  foothill  was  perceptibly  reddened  under  the  level 
beams.  Sunlight  reflecting  from  every  object  shot  up  to 
us,  enriching  the  brightness  of  our  amphitheatre. 

We  drank  and  breathed  the  light,  its  mellow  warmth 
permeating  every  fibre.  We  spread  our  blankets  under 
the  lee  of  an  overhano^infy  rock,  sheltered  from  the  keen 
east- wind,  and  in  full  view  of  the  broad  western  horizon. 

After  a  short  half-hour  of  this  wonderful  light  the  sun 
rested  for  an  instant  upon  the  Coast  ranges,  and  sank, 
leaving  our  mountains  suddenly  dead,  as  if  the  very  breath 
of  life  had  ebbed  away ;  cold  gray  shadows  covering  their 
rigid  bodies,  and  pale  sheets  of  snow  half  shrouding  their 
forms. 


MERCED  R AMBLINGS.  201 

For  a  full  hour  after  the  sun  went  down  we  did  little 
else  than  study  the  western  sky,  watching  with  greatest 
interest  a  wonderful  permanence  and  singular  gradation 
of  lingering  light.  Over  two  hundred  miles  of  horizon  a 
low  stratum  of  pure  orange  covered  the  sky  for  seven  or 
eight  degrees ;  above  that  another  narrow  band  of  beryl- 
green,  and  then  the  cool  dark  evening  blue. 

I  always  notice,  whenever  one  gets  a  very  wide  view 
of  remote  horizon  from  some  lofty  mountain-top,  the  sky 
loses  its  high  domed  appearance,  the  gradations  reaching 
but  a  few  degrees  upward  from  the  earth,  creating  the 
general  form  of  an  inverted  saucer.  The  orange  and  beryl 
bands  occupied  only  about  fifteen  degrees  in  altitude,  but 
swept  around  nearly  from  north  to  south.  It  was  as  if  a 
wonderfully  transparent  and  brilliant  rainbow  had  been 
stretched  along  the  sky-line.  At  eleven  the  colors  were 
still  perceptible,  and  at  midnight,  w^hen  I  rose  to  observe 
the  thermometer,  they  were  gone,  but  a  low  faint  zone  of 
light  still  lingered. 

At  gray  dawn  we  were  up  and  cooking  our  rasher  of 
bacon,  and  soon  had  shouldered  our  instruments  and 
started  for  the  top. 

The  Obelisk  is  flattened,  and  expands  its  base  into  two 
sharp  serrated  ridges  which  form  its  north  and  south 
edges.  The  broad  faces  turned  to  the  east  and  Avest  are 
solid  and  utterly  inaccessible ;  the  latter  being  almost 
vertical,  the  former  quite  too  steep  to  climb.  We  started, 
therefore,  to  work  our  way  up  the  south  edge,  and,  having 
crossed  a  little  ravine  from  whose  head  we  could  look 
down  eastward  upon  steep  thousand-foot  neve,  and  on  the 
western  along  the  forest-covered  ridge  up  which  we  had 
clambered,  began  in  good  earnest  to  mount  rough  blocks 
of  granite. 

The  edge  here  is  made  of  immense  broken  rocks  poised 
9* 


202  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

on  each  other  in  delicate  balance,  vast  masses  threaten- 
ing to  topple  over  at  a  touch.  This  blade  has  from  a  dis- 
tance a  considerably  smooth  and  even  appearance,  but  we 
found  it  composed  of  pinnacles  often  a  hundred  feet  high, 
separated  from  the  main  top  by  a  deep  vertical  cleft. 
More  than  once,  after  struggling  to  the  top  of  one  of  these 
pinnacles,  we  were  obliged  to  climb  down  the  same  way 
in  order  to  avoid  the  notches.  Finally,  when  we  had 
reached  the  brink  of  a  vertical  cul-de-sac,  the  edge  no 
longer  afforded  us  even  a  foothold.  There  were  left  but 
the  smooth  impossible  western  face  and  the  treacherous 
cracked  front  of  the  eastern  precipice.  We  were  driven 
out  upon  the  latter,  and  here  forced  to  climb  with  the 
very  greatest  care,  one  of  us  always  in  advance  making 
sure  of  his  foothold,  the  other  passing  up  instruments  by 
hand,  and  then  cautiously  following. 

In  this  way  we  spent  nearly  a  full  hour  going  from 
crack  to  crack,  clinging  by  the  least  protruding  masses  of 
stone,  now  and  then  looking  over  our  shoulders  at  the 
wreck  of  granite,  the  slopes  of  ice,  and  frozen  lake  thou- 
sands of  feet  below,  and  then  upward  to  gather  courage 
from  the  bold  red  spike  which  still  rose  grandly  above 
us. 

At  last  we  struggled  up  to  what  we  had  all  along  be- 
lieved the  summit,  and  found  ourselves  only  on  a  minor 
turret,  the  great  needle  still  a  hundred  feet  above.  From 
rock  to  rock  and  crevice  to  crevice  we  made  our  way  up 
a  fractured  edge  until  within  fifty  feet  of  the  top,  and 
here  its  sharp  angle  rose  smooth  and  vertical,  the  eastern 
precipice  carved  in  a  flat  face  upon  the  one  side,  the 
western  broken  by  a  smoothly  curved  recess  like  the 
corner  of  a  room.  No  human  being  could  scale  the  edge. 
An  arctic  bluebird  fluttered  along  the  eastern  slope  in 
vain  quest  of  a  foothold,  and  alighted  panting  at  our 


MERGED  RAMBLINGS.  203 

feet.  One  step  more  and  we  stood  together  on  a  little 
detached  pinnacle,  where,  by  steadying  ourselves  against 
the  sharp,  vertical  Obelisk  edge,  we  could  rest,  although 
the  keen  sense  of  steepness  below  was  not  altogether 
pleasing. 

About  seven  feet  across  the  open  head  of  a  cul-de-sac 
(a  mere  recess  in  the  west  face)  was  a  vertical  crack  riven 
into  the  granite  not  more  than  three  feet  wide,  but  as 
much  as  eight  feet  deep ;  in  it  were  wedged  a  few  loose 
boulders  ;  below,  it  opened  out  into  space.  At  the 
head  of  this  crack  a  rough  crevice  led  up  to  the  sum- 
mit. 

Summoning  nerve,  I  knew  I  could  make  the  leap, 
but  the  life  and  death  question  was  whether  the  debris 
would  give  way  under  my  weight,  and  leave  ine  strug- 
gling in  the  smooth  recess,  sure  to  fall  and  be  dashed  to 
atoms. 

Two  years  we  had  longed  to  climb  that  peak,  and  now 
within  a  few  yards  of  the  summit  no  weak-heartedness 
could  stop  us.  I  thought,  should  the  debris  give  way,  by 
a  very  quick  turn  and  powerful  spring  I  could  regain  our 
rock  in  safety. 

There  was  no  discussion,  but,  planting  my  foot  on  the 
brink,  I  sprang,  my  side  brushing  the  rough  projecting 
crag.  While  in  the  air  I  looked  down,  and  a  picture 
stamped  itself  on  my  brain  never  to  be  forgotten.  ^  The 
debris  crumbled  and  moved.  I  clutched  both  sides  of  the 
cleft,  relieving  all  possible  weight  from  my  feet.  The 
rocks  wedged  themselves  again,  and  I  was  safe. 

It  was  a  delicate  feat  of  balancing  for  us  to  bridge  that 
chasm  with  a  transit  and  pass  it  across ;  the  view  it 
afforded  down  the  abyss  was  calculated  to  make  a  man 
cool  and  steady. 

Barometer  and  knapsack  were  next  passed  over.     I 


204  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

placed  them  all  at  the  crevice  head,  and  flattened  myself 
against  the  rock  to  make  room  for  Gardner.  I  shall 
never  forget  the  look  in  his  eye  as  he  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  abyss  in  his  leap.  It  gave  me  such  a  chill  as  no 
amount  of  danger  nor  even  death  coming  to  myself  could 
ever  give.  The  d4hris  grated  under  his  weight  an  instant 
and  wedged  themselves  again. 

We  sprang  up  on  the  rocks  like  chamois,  and  stood  on 
the  top  shouting  for  joy. 

Our  summit  was  four  feet  across,  not  large  enough  for 
the  transit  instrument  and  both  of  us ;  so  I,  whose  duties 
were  geological,  descended  to  a  niche  a  few  feet  lower  and 
sat  down  to  my  wrriting. 

The  sense  of  aerial  isolation  was  thrilling.  Av^ay  be- 
low, rocks,  ridges,  crags,  and  fields  of  ice  swell  up  in  jos- 
tling confusion  to  make  a  base  from  which  springs  the 
spire  of  stone  11,600  feet  high.  On  all  sides  I  could 
look  right  down  at  the  narrow  pedestal.  Eastward  great 
ranks  of  peaks  culminatitig  in  Mount  Lyell  were  in 
full  clear  view ;  all  streams  and  canons  tributary  to  the 
Merced  were  beneath  us  in  map-like  distinctness.  Afar 
to  the  west  lay  the  rolling  plateau  gashed  with  ca- 
nons; there  the  white  line  of  Yosemite  Fall;  and  be- 
yond, half  submerged  in  warm  haze,  my  Sunday  moun- 
tain. 

The  same  little  arctic  bluebird  came  again  and  perched 
close  by  me,  pouring  out  his  sweet  simple  song  with  a 
gayety  and  freedom  which  wholly  charmed  me. 

During  our  four  hours'  stay  the  thought  that  we  must 
make  that  leap  again  gradually  intruded  itself,  and  whether 
writing  or  studying  the  country  I  could  not  altogether 
free  myself  from  its  pressure. 

It  was  a  relief  when  we  packed  up  and  descended  to 
the  horrible  cleft  to  actually  meet  our  danger.     We  had 


MERCED   RAMBLINGS.  205 

now  an  unreliable  footing  to  spring  from,  and  a  mere 
block  of  rock  to  balance  us  after  tbe  jump. 

We  sprang  strongly,  struck  firmly,  and  were  safe.  We 
worked  patiently  down  the  east  face,  wound  among  blocks 
and  pinnacles  of  the  lower  descent,  and  hurried  through 
moraines  to  camp,  well  pleased  that  the  Obelisk  had  not 
vanquished  us. 


X. 

CUT-OFF   COPPLES'S. 

One  October  day,  as  Kaweali  and  I  travelled  by  our- 
selves over  a  lonely  foothill  trail,  I  came  to  consider  my- 
seK  the  friend  of  woodpeckers.  With  rather  more  reserve 
as  regards  the  bluejay,  let  me  admit  great  interest  in  his 
worldly  wisdom.  As  an  instance  of  co-operative  living 
the  partnership  of  these  two  birds  is  rather  more  hopeful 
than  most  mundane  experiments.  For  many  autumn  and 
winter  months  such  food  as  their  dainty  taste  chooses  is 
so  rare  throughout  the  Sierras  that  in  default  of  any  cli- 
matic temptation  to  migrate  the  birds  get  in  harvests 
with  annual  regularity  and  surprising  labor.  Oak  and 
pine  mingle  in  open  growth.  Acorns  from  the  one  are 
their  grain ;  the  soft  pine  bark  is  granary ;  and  this  the 
process  :  — 

Armies  of  woodpeckers  drill  small  round  holes  in  the 
bark  of  standing  pine-trees,  sometimes  perforating  it 
thickly  up  to  twenty  or  thirty  and  even  forty  feet  above 
the  ground;  then  about  equal  numbers  of  woodpeckers 
and  jays  gather  acorns,  rejecting  always  the  little  cup, 
and  insert  the  gland  tightly  in  the  pine  bark  with  its 
tender  base  outward  and  exposed  to  the  air. 

A  woodpecker,  having  drilled  a  hole,  has  its  exact 
measure  in  mind,  and  after  examining  a  number  of 
acorns  makes  his  selection,  and  never  fails  of  a  perfect 
fit.  Not  so  the  jolly,  careless  jay,  who  picks  up  any 
sound  acorn  he  finds,  and  if  it  is  too  large  for  a  hole, 


CUT-OFF   COPPLES'S.  207 

drops  it  in  the  most  off-hand  way,  as  if  it  were  an  af- 
fair of  no  consequence ;  utters  one  of  his  dry  chuckling 
squawks,  and  either  tries  another  or  loafs  about  lazily 
watching  the  hard-working  woodpeckers. 

Thus  they  live,  amicably  harvesting,  and  with  this 
sequel:  those  acorns  in  which  grubs  form  become  the 
sole  property  of  woodpeckers,  while  all  sound  ones  fall  to 
the  jays.  Ordinarily  chances  are  in  favor  of  woodpeckers, 
and  when  there  are  absolutely  no  sound  nuts  the  jays 
sell  short,  so  to  speak,  and  go  over  to  Nevada  and  specu- 
late in  juniper-berries. 

The  monotony  of  hill  and  glade  failing  to  interest  me, 
and  in  default  of  other  diversion,  I  all  day  long  watched 
the  birds,  recalling  how  many  gay  and  successful  jays  I 
knew  who  lived,  as  these,  on  the  wit  and  industry  of  less 
ostentatious  woodpeckers ;  thinking,  too,  what  naively 
dogmatic  and  richly  worded  political  economy  Mr.  Eus- 
kin  would  phrase  from  my  feathered  friends.  Thus  I 
came  to  Euskin,  wishing  I  might  see  the  work  of  his 
idol,  and  after  that  longing  for  some  equal  artist  who 
should  arise  and  choose  to  paint  our  Sierras  as  they  are, 
with  all  their  color-glory,  power  of  innumerable  pine  and 
countless  pinnacle,  gloom  of  tempest,  or  splendor,  where 
rushing  light  shatters  itself  upon  granite  crag,  or  burns  in 
dying  rose  upon  far  fields  of  snow. 

Had  I  rubbed  Aladdin's  lamp  ?  A  turn  in  the  trail 
brought  suddenly  in  view  a  man  who  sat  under  shadow 
of  oaks,  painting  upon  a  large  canvas. 

As  I  approached,  the  artist  turned  half  round  upon  his 
stool,  rested  pallette  and  brushes  upon  one  knee,  and  in 
familiar  tone  said,  "Dern'd  if  you  ain't  just  naturally 
ketched  me  at  it !  Get  off  and  set  down.  You  ain't  going 
for  no  doctor,  I  know." 

My   artist   was   of    short,   good-natured,   butcher-boy 


208  MOUNTAINEEEING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

make-up,  dressed  in  what  had  formerly  been  black  broad- 
cloth, with  an  enlivening  show  of  red  flannel  shirt  about 
the  throat,  wrists,  and  a  considerable  display  of  the  same 
where  his  waistcoat  might  once  have  overlapped  a  strained 
but  as  yet  coherent  waistband.  The  cut  of  these  gar- 
ments, by  length  of  coat-tail  and  voluminous  leg,  proudly 
asserted  a  "  Bay  "  origin.  His  small  feet  were  squeezed 
into  tight,  short  boots,  with  high,  raking  heels. 

A  round  face,  with  small  full  mouth,  non-committal 
nose,  and  black  pl-o trading  eyes,  showed  no  more  sign  of 
the  ideal  temperament  than  did  the  broad  daub  upon  his 
square  yard  of  canvas. 

"  Going  to  Copples's  ? "  inquired  my  friend. 

That  was  my  destination,  and  I  answered,  "  Yes." 

"  That 's  me,"  he  ejaculated.  "  Right  over  there,  down 
below  those  two  oaks !    Ever  there  ? " 

"No." 

"  My  studio  's  there  now" ;  giving  impressive  accent  to 
the  word. 

All  the  while  these  few  words  were  passing  he  scruti- 
nized me  with  unconcealed  curiosity,  puzzled,  as  well  he 
might  be,  by  my  dress  and  equipment.  Finally,  after  I 
had  tied  Kaweah  to  a  tree  and  seated  myself  by  the 
easel,  and  after  he  had  absently  rubbed  some  raw  sienna 
into  his  little  store  of  white,  he  softly  ventured  :  "  Was 
you  looking  out  a  ditch  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  replied. 

He  neatly  rubbed  up  the  white  and  sienna  with  his 
"  blender,"  unconsciously  adding  a  dash  of  Veronese  green, 
gazed  at  my  leggings,  then  at  the  barometer,  and  again 
meeting  my  eye  with  a  look  as  if  he  feared  I  might  be  a 
disguised  duke,  said  in  slow  tone,  with  hyphens  of  silence 
between  each  two  syllables,  giving  to  his  language  all  the 
dignity  of  an  unabridged  Webster,  "  I  would  take  pleasure 


CUT-OFF   COPPLES'S.  209 

in  stating  that  my  name  is  Hank  G.  Smith,  artist " ;  and, 
seeing  me  smile,  he  relaxed  a  little,  and  giving  the  blender 
another  vigorous  twist,  added,  "  I  would  request  yours." 

Mr.  Smith  having  learned  my  name,  occupation,  and 
that  my  home  Avas  on  the  Hudson,  near  New  York, 
quickly  assumed  a  familiar  me-and-you-old-fel'  tone,  and 
rattled  on  merrily  about  his  winter  in  New  York  spent 
in  "  going  through  the  Academy,"  —  a  period  of  deep 
moment  to  one  who  before  that  painted  only  wagons  for 
his  livelihood. 

Storing  away  canvas,  stool,  and  easel  in  a  deserted 
cabin  close  by,  he  rejoined  me,  and,  leading  Kaweah  by 
his  lariat,  I  walked  beside  Smith  down  the  trail  toward 
Copples's. 

He  talked  freely,  and  as  if  composing  his  own  biogra- 
phy, beginning :  — 

"  California-born  and  mountain-raised,  his  nature  soon 
drove  him  into  a  painter's  career."  Then  he  reverted 
fondly  to  New  York  and  his  experience  there. 

"  0  no  ! "  he  mused  in  pleasant  irony,  "  he  never  spread 
his  napkin  over  his  legs  and  partook  French  victuals 
up  to  old  Delmonico's.  'T  was  n't  H.  G.  which  took  her 
to  the  theatre." 

In  a  sort  of  stage-aside  to  me,  he  added,  "  Slie  was  a 
model !  Stood  for  them  sculptors,  you  know ;  perfectly 
virtuous,  and  built  from  the  ground  up."  Then,  as  if 
words  failed  him,  made  an  expressive  gesture  with  both 
hands  over  his  shirt-bosom  to  indicate  the  topography  of 
her  figure,  and,  sliding  them  down  sharply  against  his 
waistband,  he  added,  "  Anatomical  torso  1 " 

Mr.  Smith  found  relief  in  meeting  one  so  near  himself, 
as  he  conceived  me  to  be,  in  habit  and  experience.  The 
long-pent-up  emotions  and  ambitions  of  his  life  found 
ready  utterance,  and  a  willing  listener. 


210  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

I  learned  that  tiis  aim  was  to  become  a  characteristically 
California  painter,  with  sjoecial  designs  for  making  himseK 
famous  as  the  delineator  of  mule-trains  and  ox-wagons ; 
to  be,  as  he  expressed  it,  "  the  Pacific  Slope  Bonheur." 

"  There,"  he  said,  "  is  old  Eastman  Johnson ;  he 's  made 
the  riffle  on  barn^,  and  that  everlasting  girl  with  the  ears 
of  corn ;  but  it  ain't  life,  it  ain't  got  the  real  git-up. 

"  If  you  want  to  see  the  thing,  just  look  at  a  Gerome ; 
his  Arab  folks  and  Egyptian  dancing-girls,  they  ain't  as- 
suming a  pleasant  expression  and  looking  at  spots  while 
their  likenesses  is  took. 

"  H.  G.  will  discount  Eastman  yet." 

He  avowed  his  great  admiration  of  Church,  which,  with 
a  little  leaning  toward  Mr.  Gifford,  seemed  his  only  hearty 
approval. 

"  It 's  all  Bierstadt  and  Bierstadt  and  Bierstadt  now- 
adays !  What  has  he  done  but  twist  aiid  skew  and  dis- 
tort and  discolor  and  belittle  and  be-pretty  this  whole 
doggonned  country  ?  Why,  his  mountains  are  too  high 
and  too  slim ;  they  'd  blow  over  in  one  of  our  fall  winds. 

"  I  've  herded  colts  two  suilamers  in  Yosemite,  and  hon- 
est now,  when  I  stood  right  up  in  front  of  his  picture,  I 
did  n't  know  it. 

"  He  has  n't  what  old  Euskin  calls  for." 

By  this  time  the  station  buildings  were  in  sight,  and 
far  down  the  canon,  winding  in  even  grade  around  spur 
after  spur,  outlined  by  a  low  clinging  cloud  of  red  dust, 
we  could  see  the  great  Sierra  mule-train,  —  that  indus- 
trial gulf-stream  flowing  from  California  plains  over  into 
arid  Nevada,  carrying  thither  materials  for  life  and  luxury. 
In  a  vast  perpetual  caravan  of  heavy  wagons,  drawn  by 
teams  of  from  eight  to  fourteen  mules,  all  the  supplies  of 
many  cities  and  villages  were  hauled  across  the  Sierra 
at  an  immense  cost,  and  with  such  skill  of  driving  and 
generalship  of  mules  as  the  world  has  never  seen  before. 


CUT-OFF   COPPLES'S.  211 

Our  trail  descended  toward  tlie  grade,  quickly  bringing 
us  to  a  high  bank  immediately  overlooking  the  trains  a 
few  rods  below  the  group  of  station  buildings. 

I  had  by  this  time  learned  that  Copples,  the  former 
station-proprietor,  had  suffered  amputation  of  the  leg 
three  times,  receiving  from  the  road  men,  in  consequence, 
the  name  of  "  Cut-ofl^'  and  that,  while  his  doctors  dis- 
agreed as  to  whether  they  better  try  a  fourth,  the  kindly 
hand  of  death  had  spared  him  that  pain,  and  Mrs.  Copples 
an  added  extortion  in  the  bill. 

The  dying  "  Cut-off "  had  made  his  wife  promise  she 
would  stay  by  and  carry  on  the  station  until  all  his  debts, 
which  were  many  and  heavy,  should  be  paid,  and  then  do 
as  she  chose. 

The  poor  woman,  a  New  Englander  of  some  refine- 
ment, lingered,  sadly  fulfilling  her  task,  though  longing 
for  liberty. 

Wlien  Smith  came  to  speak  of  Sarah  Jane,  her  niece,  a 
new  light  kindled  in  my  friend's  eye. 

"  You  never  saw  Sarah  Jane  ? "  he  inquired. 

I  shook  my  head. 

He  went  on  to  tell  me  that  he  was  living  in  hope  of 
making  her  Mrs.  H.  G.,  but  that  the  bar-keeper  also  in- 
dulged a  hope,  and  as  this  important  functionary  was  a 
man  of  ready  cash,  and  of  derringers  and  few  words,  it 
became  a  delicate  matter  to  avow  open  rivalry ;  but  it  was 
evident  my  friend's  star  was  ascendant,  and,  learning  that 
he  considered  himself  to  possess  the  "  dead-wood,"  and  to 
have  "  gaited  "  the  bar-keeper,  I  was  more  than  amused, 
even  comforted. 

It  was  pleasure  to  sit  there  leaning  against  a  vigorous 
old  oak  while  Smith  opened  his  heart  to  me,  in  easy  con- 
fidence, and,  with  quick  eye  watching  the  passing  mules, 
pencilled  in  a  little  sketch-book  a  leg,  a  head,  or  such 


212  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

portions  of  body  and  harness  as  seemed  to  limi  useful  for 
future  works. 

"  These  are  notes/'  he  said,  "  and  I  've  pretty  much 
made  up  my  mind  to  paint  my  great  picture  on  a  gee-pull. 
1 11  scumble  in  a  sunset  effect,  lighting  up  the  dust,  and 
striking  across  the  backs  of  team  and  driver,  and  I  '11 
paint  a  come-up-there-d'n-you  look  on  the  old  teamster's 
face,  and  the  mules  will  be  just  a  humping  their  little 
selves  and  laying  down  to  work  like  they  'd  expire.  And 
the  wagon !  Don't  you  see  what  fine  color-material  there 
is  in  the  heavy  load  and  canvas-to]D  with  sunlight  and 
shadow  in  the  folds  ?  And  that  's  what  's  the  matter 
with  H.  G.  Smith. 

"  Orders,  sir,  orders ;  that 's  what  I  '11  get  then,  and  I  'U 
take  my  little  old  Sarah  Jane  and  light  out  for  ISTew  York, 
and  you  '11  see  Smith  on  a  studio  doorplate,  and  folks  '11 
say.  Fine  feeling  for  nature,  has  Smith ! " 

I  let  this  singular  man  speak  for  himself  in  his  own 
vernacular,  pruning  nothing  of  its  idiom  or  slang,  as  you 
shall  choose  to  call  it.  In  this  faithful  transcript  there 
are  words  I  could  have  wished  to  expunge,  but  they  are 
his,  not  mine,  and  illustrate  his  mental  construction. 
;  The  breath  of  most  Californians  is  as  unconsciously 
charged  with  slang  as  an  Italian's  of  garlic,  and  the  two, 
after  all,  have  much  the  same  function ;  you  touch  the 
bowl  or  your  language,  but  should  never  let  either  be  fairly 
recognized  in  salad  or  conversation.  But  Smith's  English 
was  the  well  undefiled  when  compared  with  what  I  every 
moment  heard  from  the  current  of  teamsters  which  set 
constantly  by  us  in  the  direction  of  Copples's. 

Close  in  front  came  a  huge  wagon  piled  high  with  cases 
of  freight,  and  drawn  along  by  a  team  of  twelve  mules, 
whose  heavy  breathing  and  drenched  skins  showed  them 
hard-worked  and  well  tired  out.     The  driver  looked  anx- 


CUT-OFF   COPPLES'S.  213 

iously  ahead  at  a  soft  spot  in  the  road,  and  on  at  the 
station,  as  if  calculating  whether  his  team  had  courage 
left  to  haul  through. 

He  called  kindly  to  them,  cracked  his  black-snake 
whip,  and  all  together  they  strained  bravely  on. 

The  great  van  rocked,  settled  a  little  on  the  near  side, 
and  stuck  fast. 

With  a  look  of  despair  the  driver  got  off  and  laid  the 
lash  freely  among  his  team;  they  jumped  and  jerked, 
frantically  tangled  themselves  up,  and  at  last  all  sulked 
and  became  stubbornly  immovable.  Meanwhile,  a  mile 
of  teams  behind,  unable  to  pass  on  the  narrow  grade, 
came  to  an  unwilling  halt. 

About  five  wagons  back  I  noticed  a  tall  Pike,  dressed 
in  checked  shirt,  and  pantaloons  tucked  into  jack-boots. 
A  soft  felt  hat,  worn  on  the  back  of  his  head,  displayed 
long  locks  of  flaxen  hair,  which  hung  freely  about  a  florid 
pink  countenance,  noticeable  for  its  pair  of  violent  little 
blue  eyes,  and  facial  angle  rendered  acute  by  a  sharp, 
long  nose. 

This  fellow  watched  the  stoppage  with  impatience,  and 
at  last,  when  it  was  more  than  he  could  bear,  walked  up 
by  the  other  teams  with  a  look  of  wrath  absolutely  devil- 
ish. One  would  have  expected  him  to  blow  up  with  rage ; 
yet  withal  his  gait  and  manner  were  cool  and  soft  in  the 
extreme.  In  a  bland,  almost  tender  voice,  he  said  to  the 
unfortunate  driver,  "  My  friend,  perhaps  I  can  help  you  "  ; 
and  his  gentle  way  of  disentangling  and  patting  the 
leaders,  as  he  headed  them  round  in  the  right  direction, 
would  have  given  him  a  high  office  under  Mr.  Bergh. 
He  leisurely  examined  the  embedded  wheel,  and  cast  an 
eye  along  the  road  ahead.  He  then  began  in  rather 
excited  manner  to  swear,  pouring  it  out  louder  and  more 
profane,  till  he  utterly  eclipsed  the  most  horrid  blasphe- 


214  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

mies  I  ever  heard,  piling  them  up  thicker  and  more 
fiendish  till  it  seemed  as  if  the  very  earth  must  open  and 
engulf  him. 

I  noticed  one  mule  after  another  give  a  little  squat, 
bringing  their  breasts  hard  against  the  collars,  and  strain- 
ing traces,  till  only  one  old  mule  with  ears  back  and  dan- 
gling chain  still  held  out.  The  Pike  walked  up  and  yelled 
one  gigantic  oath ;  her  ears  sprang  forward,  she  squatted 
in  terror,  and  the  iron  links  grated  under  her  strain.  He 
then  stepped  back  and  took  the  rein,  every  trembhng  mule 
looking  out  of  the  corner  of  its  eye  and  listening  at  qui 
vive. 

With  a  peculiar  air  of  deliberation  and  of  childlike 
simplicity,  he  said  in  every-day  tones,  "  Come  up  there, 
mules ! " 

One  quick  strain,  a  slight  rumble,  and  the  wagon  rolled 
on  to  Copples's. 

Smith  and  I  followed,  and  as  we  neared  the  house  he 
punched  me  familiarly  and  said,  as  a  brown  petticoat  dis- 
appeared in  the  station  door,  "  There  's  Sarah  Jane !  When 
I  see  that  girl  I  feel  like  I  'd  reach  out  and  gather  her 
in  "  ;  then  clasping  her  imaginary  form  as  if  she  was  about 
to  dance  with  him,  he  executed  a  couple  of  waltz  turns, 
softly  intimating,  "  That 's  what 's  the  matter  with  H.  G." 

Kaweah  being  stabled,  we  betook  ourselves  to  the  office, 
which  was  of  course  bar-room  as  weU.  As  I  entered,  the 
unfortunate  teamster  was  about  paying  his  liquid  compli- 
ment to  the  florid  Pike.  Their  glasses  were  fiUed.  "  My 
respects,"  said  the  little  driver.  The  whiskey  became  lost 
to  view,  and  went  eroding  its  way  through  the  dust  these 
poor  fellows  had  swallowed.  He  added,  "Well,  Billy, 
you  can  swear." 

"Swear?"  repeated  the  Pike  in  a  tone  of  incredulous 
questioning.     "Me  swear?"  ks  if  the  compliment  were 


CUT-OFF    COrPLES'S.  215 

greater  than  his  modest  desert.  "  No,  I  can't  blaspheme 
worth  a  cuss.  You  'd  jest  orter  hear  Pete  Green.  He 
can  exliort  the  imjoenite^it  mule.  I  've  known  a  ten-mule- 
team  to  renounce  the  flesh  and  haul  thirty-one  thousand 
through  a  foot  of  clay  mud  under  one  of  his  outpourings." 

As  a  hotel,  Copples's  is  on  the  Mongolian  plan,  which 
means  lAiat  dining-room  and  kitchen  are  given  over  to  the 
mercies  —  never  very  tender  —  of  Chinamen;  not  such 
Chinamen  as  learned  the  art  of  pig-roasting  that  they 
might  be  served  up  by  Elia,  but  the  average  John,  and  a 
sadly  low  average  that  John  is.  I  grant  him  a  certain 
general  air  of  thrift,  admitting,  too,  that  his  lack  of  sobriety 
never  makes  itself  apparent  in  loud  Celtic  brawl.  But 
he  is,  when  all  is  said,  and  in  spite  of  timid  and  fawning 
obedience,  a  very  poor  servant. 

Now  and  then  at  one  friend's  house  it  has  happened  to 
me  that  I  dined  upon  artistic  Chinese  cookery,  and  all 
they  who  come  home  from  living  in  China  smack  their 
lips  over  the  relishing  cuisine.  I  wish  they  had  sat  down 
that  day  at  Copples's.  No;  on  second  thought  I  would 
spare  them. 

John  may  go  peacefully  to  North  Adams  and  make 
shoes  for  us,  but  I  shall  not  solve  the  awful  domestic 
problem  by  bringing  him  into  my  kitchen ;  certainly  so 
long  as  Howells's  "Mrs.  Johnson"  lives,  nor  even  while  I 
can  get  an  Irish  lady  to  torment  me,  and  offer  the  hospi- 
tality of  my  home  to  her  cousins. 

After  the  warning  bell,  fifty  or  sixty  teamsters  inserted 
their  dusty  heads  in  buckets  of  water,  turned  their  once 
.white  neck-handkerchiefs  inside  out,  producing  a  sudden 
effect  of  clean  linen,  and  made  use  of  the  two  mournful 
wrecks  of  combs  which  hung  on  strings  at  either  side  the 
Copples's  mirror.  Many  went  to  the  bar  and  partook  of  a 
"  dust-cutter."     Tliere  was  then  such  clearing  of  throats. 


216  MOUNT AINEERTKG  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

and  such  loud  and  prolonged  blowing  of  noses  as  may 
not  often  be  heard  upon  this  globe. 

In  the  calm  which  ensued,  conversation  sprung  up  on 
"  lead  harness,"  the  "  Stockton  wagon  that  had  went  off 
the  grade,"  with  here  and  there  a  sentiment  called  out  by 
two  framed  lithographic  belles,  w^ho  in  great  richness  of 
color  and  scantiness  of  raiment  flanked  the  bar-mirror; 
—  a  dazzling  reflector,  chiefly  destined  to  portray  the  bar- 
keeper's back  hair,  which  work  of  art  involved  much  affec- 
tionate labor. 

A  second  bell,  and  rolling  aw^ay  of  doors  revealed  a 
long  dining-room,  with  three  parallel  tables,  cleanly  set 
and  watched  over  by  Chinamen,  whose  fresh  white  clothes 
and  bright  olive-buff  skin  made  a  contrast  of  color  which 
was  always  chief  among  my  yearnings  for  the  Nile. 

While  I  loitered  in  the  background  every  seat  was 
taken,  and  I  found  myself  with  a  few  dilatory  teamsters 
destined  to  await  a  second  table. 

The  dining-room  communicated  with  a  kitchen  beyond 
by  means  of  two  square  apertures  cut  in  the  partition 
wall.  Through  these  portholes  a  glare  of  red  light  poured, 
except  when  the  square  framed  a  Chinese  cook's  head,  or 
discharged  hundreds  of  little  dishes. 

The  teamsters  sat  down  in  patience ;  a  few  of  the  more 
elegant  sort  cleaned  their  nails  with  the  three-tine  forks, 
others  picked  their  teeth  w4th  them,  and  nearly  all  speared 
with  this  implement  small  specimens  from  the  dishes  be- 
fore them,  securing  a  pickle  or  a  square  inch  of  pie  or 
even  that  luxury  a  dried  apple;  a  few,  on  tilted-back 
chairs,  drummed  upon  the  bottom  of  their  plates  the 
latest  tune  of  the  road. 

When  fairly  under  way  the  scene  became  active  and 
animated  beyond  belief  Waiters  balancing  upon  their 
arms  twenty  or  thirty  plates,  hurried  along  and  shot  them 


CUT-OFF   COPPLES'S.  217 

dexterously  over  the  teamsters'  heads  with  crash  and 
spatter. 

Beans  swimming  in  fat,  meats  slimed  with  pale  ropy 
gravy,  and  over  everything  a  faint  Mongol  odor,  —  the 
flavor  of  moral  degeneracy  and  of  a  disintegrating  race. 

Sharks  and  wolves  may  no  longer  be  figured  as  types 
of  prandial  haste.  My  friends,  the  teamsters,  stuffed  and 
swallowed  with  a  rapidity  which  was  alarming  but  for 
the  dexterity  they  showed,  and  which  could  only  have 
come  of  long  practice. 

In  fifteen  minutes  the  room  was  empty,  and  those 
fellows  who  were  not  feeding  grain  to  their  mules  lighted 
cigars  and  lingered  around  the  bar. 

Just  then  my  artist  rushed  in,  seized  me  by  the  arm, 
and  said  in  my  ear,  "We  '11  have  our  supper  over  to 
Mrs.  Copples's.  0  no,  I  guess  not  —  Sarah  Jane  —  arms 
peeled  —  cooking  up  stuff — old  woman  gone  into  the 
milk-room  with  a  skimmer."  He  then  added  that  if  I 
wanted  to  see  what  I  had  been  spared,  I  might  follow  him. 

We  went  round  an  angle  of  the  building  and  came  upon 
a  high  bank,  where,  through  wide-open  windows,  I  could 
look  into  the  Chinese  kitchen. 

By  this  time  the  second  table  of  teamsters  were  under 
way,  and  the  w^aiters  yelled  their  orders  through  to  the 
three  cooks. 

This  large  unpainted  kitchen  was  lighted  up  by  kero- 
sene lamps.  Through  clouds  of  smoke  and  steam  dodged 
and  sprang  the  cooks,  dripping  with  perspiration  and 
grease,  grabbing  a  steak  in  the  hand  and  slapping  it  down 
on  the  gridiron,  slipping  and  sliding  around  on  the  damp 
floor,  dropping  a  card  of  biscuits  and  picking  them  up 
again  in  their  fists,  which  were  garnished  by  the  whole 
bill  of  fare.  The  red  papers  with  Chinese  inscriptions, 
and  little  joss-sticks  here  and  there  pasted  upon  each 

10 


218  MOUNT AINEEEING  IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

wall,  the  spry  devils  tliemselves,  and  that  faint  sickening 
odor  of  China  which  pervaded  the  room,  combined  to  pro- 
duce a  sense  of  deep  sober  gratitude  that  I  had  not  risked 
their  fare. 

"Now/'  demanded  Smith,  "You  see  that  there  little 
white  building  yonder  ? " 

I  did. 

He  struck  a  contemplative  position,  leaned  against  the 
house,  extending  one  hand  after  the  manner  of  the  min- 
strel sentimentalist,  and  softly  chanted :  — 

**  'T  is,  0  't  is  the  cottage  of  me  love  "  ; 

and  there  's  where  they  're  getting  up  as  nice  a  little 
supper  as  can  be  found  on  this  road  or  any  other.  Let 's 
go  over ! " 

So  we  strolled  across  an  open  space  where  were  two 
giant  pines  towering  sombre  against  the  twilight,  a  little 
mountain  brooklet,  and  a  few  quiet  cows. 

"Stop,"  said  Smith,  leaning  his  back  against  a  pine, 
and  encircling  my  neck  affectionately  with  an  arm ;  "  I 
told  you,  as  regards  Sarah  Jane,  how  my  feelings  stand. 
Well  now,  you  just  bet  she  's  on  the  reciprocate  !  When 
I  told  old  woman  Copples  I  'd  like  to  invite  you  over, 
—  Sarah  Jane  she  past  me  in  the  doorway,  —  and  said 
she, '  Glad  to  see  your  friends.'  " 

Then  sotto  voce,  for  we  were  very  near,  he  sang  again :  — 

*"T  is,  0  't  is  the  cottage  of  me  love  "  ; 

"  and  C.  K.,"  he  continued  familiarly,  "  You  're  a  judge  of 
wimmen,"  chucking  his  knuckles  into  my  ribs,  whereat  T 
jumped  ;  when  he  added, "  There,  I  knew  you  was.  Well, 
Sarah  Jane  is  a  derned  magnificent  female ;  number  three 
boot,  just  the  height  for  me.  Venus  de  Copples,  I  call 
her,  and  would  make  the  most  touching  artist's  wife  in 
this  planet.     If  I  design  to  paint  a  head,  or  a  foot,  or  an 


CUT-OFF   COPPLES'S.  219 

arm,  get  my  little  old  Sarah.  Jane  to  peel  the  particular 
charm,  and  just  whack  her  in  on  the  canvas." 

We  passed  in  through  low  doors,  turned  from  a  small 
dark  entry  into  the  family  sitting-room,  and  were  alone 
there  in  presence  of  a  cheery  log  fire  which  good-natur- 
edly bade  us  welcome,  crackling  freely  and  tossing  its 
sparks  out  upon  floor  of  pine  and  Coyote-skin  rug.  A 
few  old  framed  prints  hung  upon  dark  walls,  their  faces 
looking  serenely  down  upon  the  scanty  old-fashioned 
furniture,  and  windows  full  of  flowering  plants.  A  low- 
cushioned  chair,  not  long  since  vacated,  was  drawn  close 
by  the  centre -table,  whereon  were  a  lamp,  and  a  large 
open  Bible  with  a  pair  of  silver-bowed  spectacles  lying 
upon  its  lighted  page. 

Smith  made  a  gesture  of  silence  toward  the  door, 
touched  the  Bible,  and  whispered,  "Here  's  where  old 
woman  Copples  lives,  and  it  is  a  good  thing ;  I  read  it 
aloud  to  her  evenings,  and  I  can  just  feel  the  high  local 
lights  of  it.     It  '11  fetch  H.  G.  yet ! " 

At  this  juncture  the  door  opened ;  a  pale,  thin,  elderly 
woman  entered,  and  with  tired  smile  greeted  me.  While 
her  hard,  labor-stiffened,  needle-roughened  hand  was  in 
mine,  I  looked  into  her  face  and  felt  something  (it  may 
be,  it  must  be  but  little,  yet  something)  of  the  sorrow  of 
her  life;  that  of  a  woman  large  in  sympathy,  deep  in 
faith,  eternal  in  constancy,  thrown  away  on  a  rough 
worthless  fellow.  All  things  she  hoped  for  had  failed 
her;  the  tenderness  which  never  came,  the  hopes  years 
ago  in  ashes,  the  whole  world  of  her  yearnings  long 
buried,  leaving  only  the  duty  of  living  and  the  hope  of 
Heaven.  As  she  sat  down,  took  up  her  spectacles  and 
knitting,  and  closed  the  Bible,  she  began  pleasantly  to 
talk  to  us  of  the  warm  bright  autumn  nights,  of  Smith's 
work,  and  then  of  my  own  profession,  and  of  her  niece. 


220  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

Sarali  Jane.  Her  genninely  sweet  spirit  and  natively- 
gentle  manner  were  very  beautiful,  and  far  overbalanced 
all  traces  of  rustic  birth  and  mountain  life. 

0  that  unquenchable  Christian  fire,  how  pure  the  gold 
of  its  result !  It  needs  no  practiced  elegance,  no  social 
greatness,  for  its  success;  only  the  warm  human  heart, 
and  out  of  it  shall  come  a  sacred  calm  and  gentleness, 
such  as  no  power,  no  wealth,  no  culture  may  ever  hope  to 
win. 

No  words  of  mine  would  outline  the  beauty  of  that 
plain  weary  old  woman,  the  sad  sweet  patience  of  those 
gray  eyes,  nor  the  spirit  of  overflowing  goodness  which 
cheered  and  enlivened  the  half  hour  we  spent  there. 

H.  G.  might  perhaps  be  pardoned  for  showing  an  alac- 
rity when  the  door  again  opened  and  Sarah  Jane  rolled,  I 
might  almost  say  trundled  in,  and  was  introduced  to  me. 

Sarah  Jane  was  an  essentially  Californian  product,  as 
much  so  as  one  of  those  vast  potatoes  or  massive  pears ; 
she  had  a  suggestion  of  State-Fair  in  the  fulness  of  her 
physique,  yet  with  all  was  pretty  and  modest. 

If  I  could  have  rid  myself  of  a  fear  that  her  buttons 
might  sooner  or  later  burst  off  and  go  singing  by  my  ear, 
I  think  I  might  have  felt  as  H.  G.  did,  that  she  was  a 
"  magnificent  female  "  with  her  smooth  brilliant  skin  and 
ropes  of  soft  brown  hair. 

H.  G.,  in  presence  of  the  ladies,  lost  something  of  his 
original  flavor,  and  rose  into  studied  elegance,  greatly  to 
the  comfort  of  Sarah,  whose  glow  of  pride  as  his  talk  ran 
on  came  without  show  of  restraint. 

The  supper  was  delicious. 

But  Sarah  was  quiet,  quiet  to  H.  G.  and  to  me,  until 
after  tea,  when  the  old  lady  said :  "  You  young  folks  will 
have  to  excuse  me  this  evening,"  and  withdrew  to  her 
chamber. 


CUT-OFF  COPPLES'S.  221 

More  logs  were  then  piled  on  the  sitting-room  hearth, 
and  we  three  gathered  in  semicircle. 

Presently  H.  G.  took  the  poker  and  twisted  it  about 
among  coals  and  ashes,  prying  up  the  oak  sticks,  as  he 
announced,  in  a  measured,  studied  way,  "An  artist's 
wife,  that  is,"  he  explained,  "an  Academician's  wife 
orter,  well  she  'd  orter  sale  the  beautiful,  and  take  her 
regular  aesthetics ;  and  then  again,"  he  continued  in  ex- 
planatory tone,  "  she  'd  orter  know  how  to  keep  a  hotel, 
derned  if  she  had  n't,  for  it 's  rough  like  furst  off,  'fore  a 
feller  gits  his  name  up.  But  then  when  he  does  tho' 
she  's  got  a  salubrious  old  time  of  it.  It  's  touch  a  little 
bell"  (he  pressed  the  andiron-top  to  show  us  how  the 
thing  was  done),  "  and  '  Brooks,  the  morning  paper !  * 
Open  your  regular  Herald :  — 

"  'Art  Notes.  —  Another  of  H.  G.  Smith's  tender  works 
entitled,  "  Off  the  Grade,"  so  full  of  out-of-doors  and  sub- 
tle feeling  of  nature,  is  now  on  exhibition  at  Goupel's.' 

"  Look  down  a  little  further. 

" '  Italian  Opera.  —  Between  the  acts  all  eyes  turned 
to  the  distingue,  Mrs.  H.  G.  Smith,  who  looked,' "  —  then 
turning  to  me,  and  waving  his  hand  at  Sarah  Jane,  "  I 
leave  it  to  you  if  she  don't." 

Sarah  Jane  assumed  the  pleasing  color  of  the  sugar- 
beet  without  seeming  inwardly  unhappy. 

"  It 's  only  a  question  of  time  with  H.  G.,"  continued 
my  friend.  "  Art  is  long  you  know,  derned  long,  and  it 
may  be  a  year  before  I  paint  my  great  picture,  but  after 
that  Smith  works  in  lead  harness." 

He  used  the  poker  freely,  and  more  and  more  his  flow 
of  hopes  turned  a  shade  of  sentiment  to  Sarah  Jane,  who 
smiled  broader  and  broader,  showing  teeth  of  healthy 
whiteness. 

At  last  I  withdrew  and  sought  my  room,  wliich  was 


222  MOUNTAINEER!]^ G   IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

H.  G.'s  also,  and  liis  studio.  I  had  gone  with  a  candle 
around  the  walls  whereon  were  tacked  studies  and  sketches, 
finding  here  and  there  a  bit  of  real  merit  among  the  pro- 
fusion of  trash,  when  the  door  burst  open  and  my  friend 
entered,  kicked  off  his  boots  and  trousers,  and  walked  up 
and  down  at  a  sort  of  quadrille  step  singing  :  — 

"Yes,  it 's  the  cottage  of  me  love  ; 
"  .  •  You  bet,  it 's  the  cottage  of  me  love," 

and  what  's  more,  H.  G.  has  just  had  his  genteel  good- 
night kiss ;  and  when  and  where  is  the  good  old  bar- 
keep  ? " 

I  checked  his  exuberance  as  best  I  might,  knowing  full 
well  that  the  quiet  and  elegant  dispenser  of  neat  and 
mixed  beverages  hearing  this  inquiry  would  put  in  an 
appearance  in  person  and  offer  a  few  remarks  designed  to 
provoke  ill-feeling.  So  I  at  last  got  Smith  in  bed  and  the 
lamp  out.  All  was  quiet  for  a  few  moments,  and  when  I 
had  almost  gotten  asleep,  I  heard  my  room-mate  in  low 
tones  say  to  himseK :  — 

"  Married,  by  the  Eev.  Gospel,  our  talented  California 
artist,  Mr.  H.  G.  Smith,  to  Miss  Sarah  Jane  Copples.  No 
cards." 

A  pause,  and  then  with  more  gentle  utterance,  "and 
that 's  what  the  matter  with  H.  G." 

Slowly  from  this  atmosphere  of  art  I  passed  away  into 
the  tranquil  land  of  dreams. 


XL 

SHASTA. 

We  escaped  the  harvesting  season  of  1870.  I  try  to 
believe  all  its  poetry  is  not  forever  immolated  under  the 
strong  wheels  of  that  pastoral  juggernaut  of  our  day,  the 
steam-reaper,  and  to  be  grateful  that  Euths  have  not  now 
to  glean  the  fallen  wheat-heads  and  loaf  around  at  ques- 
tionable hours  setting  their  caps  for  susceptible  ranchers. 
Whatever  stirring  rhythm  may  to-day  measure  time  with 
the  quick  fire-breath  of  reaping-machines  shall  await  a 
more  poetic  pen  than  this.  Some  modern  Virgil  coming 
along  the  boundless  wheat  plain  may  perhaj)s  sing  you 
bucolic  phrases  of  the  new  iron  age ;  but  he  will  soon  see 
his  mistake,  as  will  you.  The  harvest  home,  with  its 
Longfellow  mellowness  of  atmosphere,  or  even  those 
ideally  colored  barns  of  Eastman  Johnson's,  with  corn 
and  girls  and  some  of  the  lingering  personal  relationship 
between  crops  and  human  hands ;  all  that  is  tradition 
here,  not  even  memory. 

It  is  quite  as  well.  These  people  are  more  germane 
with  enterprise  and  hurry,  and  with  the  winding-up 
drink  at  some  vulgar  tavern  when  the  hired  hands  are 
paid  off  and  gather  to  have  "a  real  nice  time  with  the 
boys." 

This  was  over.  The  herds  of  men  had  poured  back  to 
their  cities, and  wandered  away  among  distant  mines  as 
far  as  their  earnings  would  carry  them. 

A  few  stranded  bummers  who  awoke  from  their  "nice 


224  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE  SIERRA  NEVADA. 

time"  penniless,  still  lingered  in  pathetic  humiliation 
around  the  scene  of  their  labor,  rather  heightening  that 
air  of  sleep  which  now  pervaded  every  ranch  in  the 
Sacramento  valley. 

We  quitted  the  hotel  at  Chico  with  relief,  gratefully- 
turning  our  backs  upon  the  Chinamen  whose  cookery  had 
spoiled  our  two  days'  peace.  Mr.  Freeman  Clark  will 
have  to  make  out  a  better  case  for  Confucius  or  else  these 
fellows  were  apostate.  But  they  were  soon  behind  us,  a 
straight  dusty  avenue  leading  us  past  clusters  of  ran- 
ches into  a  quiet  expanse  of  level  land,  and  beneath 
the  occasional  shadow  of  roadside  oaks.  Miles  of  har- 
vested plain  lay  close  shaven  in  monotonous  Naples  yel- 
low, stretching  on,  soft  and  vague,  losing  itself  in  a  gray, 
half-luminous  haze.  Now  and  then,  through  more  trans- 
parent intervals,  we  could  see  the  brown  Sierra  feet 
walling  us  in  to  eastward,  their  oak-clad  tops  fainter  and 
fainter  as  they  rose  into  this  sky.  Directly  overhead 
hung  an  arch  of  pale  blue,  but  a  few  degrees  down  the 
hue  melted  into  golden  gray.  Looming  through  the  mist 
before  us  rose  sombre  forms  of  trees,  growing  in  pro- 
cessions along  the  margins  of  snow-fed  streams  which 
flow  from  the  Sierra  across  the  Sacramento  river.  Through 
these  silent  sleepy  groves  the  seclusion  is  perfect.  You 
come  in  from  blinding  sun-scorched  plains  to  the  great 
aged  oaks,  whose  immense  breadth  of  bough  seems  out- 
stretched with  effort  to  shade  more  and  more  ground. 

Alders  and  cottonwoods  line  the  stream  banks  ;  native 
grapes  in  tropical  profusion  drape  the  shores,  and  hang 
in  trailing  curtains  from  tree  to  tree.  Here  and  there 
glimpses  open  into  dark  thickets.  The  stream  comes 
into  view  between  walls  of  green.  Evening  sunlight, 
broken  with  shadow,  falls  over  rippling  shallows ;  still 
expanses  of  deep  pool  reflect  blue  from  the  zenith,  and 


SHASTA.  225 

flow  on  into  dark-shaded  coves  beneath  overhanging  ver- 
dure. Vineyards  and  orchards  gather  themselves  pleas- 
antly around  ranch-houses.  --^ 

Men  and  women  are  dull,  unrelieved;  they  are  all  ,' 
alike.  The  eternal  flatness  of  landsca^Dc,  the  monotony 
of  endlessly  pleasant  weather,  the  scarcely  varying  year, 
the  utter  want  of  anything  unforeseen,  and  absence  of  all 
surprise  in  life,  are  legible  upon  their  quiet  uninteresting 
faces.  They  loaf  through  eleven  months  to  harvest  one. 
Individuality  is  wanting.  The  same  kind  of  tiresome 
ranch-gossip  you  hear  at  one  table  spreads  itself  over 
listening  acres  to  the  next. 

The  great  American  poet,  it  may  confidently  be  pre-  "  , 
dieted,  will  not  book  his  name  from  the  Sacramento 
Valley.  The  people,  the  acres,  the  industry  seem  to  be 
created  solely  to  furnish  vulgar  fractions  in  the  census. 
It  was  not  wholly  fancy  tliat  detected  in  the  grapes 
something  of  the  same  flatness  and  sugary  insipidity 
which  characterized  the  girls  I  chatted  with  on  certain 
piazzas. 

What  an  antipode  is  the  condition  of  sterile  poverty  in 
the  farm-life  of  tlie  East.  Frugality,  energy,  self-preserv- 
ing mental  activity  contrast  sharply  with  the  contented 
letha,rgy  of  this  commonplace  opulence.  Mile  after  mile, 
in  recurring  succession  of  wheatland  and  vineyard,  oak- 
grove  and  dusty  shabbiness  of  graceless  ranch-buildings, 
stretches  on,  flanking  our  way  on  either  side,  until  at  last 
the  undulations  of  the  foot-hills  are  reached,  and  the  first 
signs  of  vigorous  life  are  observed  in  the  trees.  Attitude 
and  consciousness  are  displayed  in  the  lordly  oaks  which 
cluster  upon  brown  hillsides.  The  Sacramento,  which 
through  the  slumberous  plain  had  flowed  in  a  still  deep 
current,  reflecting  only  the  hot  haze  and  motionless  forms 
of  the  trees  upon  its  banks,  here  courses  along  with  the 
10*  o 


226  MOUNTAIXEEKIXG   IX   THE    SIERRA   XEVADA. 

ripple  of  life,  disj)laying  through  its  clear  waters  boulders 
and  pebbles  freighted  from  the  higher  mountains. 

Our  road,  ascending  through  sunny  valleys  and  among 
rolling  oak-clad  hills,  at  length  reaches  the  level  of  the 
pines,  and  climbing  to  a  considerable  crest  descends 
among  a  fine  coniferous  forest  into  the  deejDly-wooded 
valley  of  the  Pitt.  Lifted  high  against  the  sky,  ragged 
hills  of  granite  and  limestone  limit  the  view.  The 
river,  through  a  sharp  rocky  canon,  has  descended  from 
the  volcanic  jolains  of  nortlieastern  California,  cutting  its 
way  across  the  sea  of  hills  which  represents  the  Sierra 
Nevada,  and  falling  toward  the  west  in  a  series  of  white 
rapids. 

Our  camp  in  the  cool  mountain  air  banished  the  fa- 
tigues of  weary  miles ;  night,  under  the  mountain  stars, 
gave  us  refreshing  sleep;  and,  from  the  morning  we 
crossed  Pitt  Perry,  we  dated  a  new  life. 

In  a  deep  gorge  between  lofty  j)ine-clad  walls  we  came 
upon  the  McCloud,  a  brilliantly  pure  stream,  wearing  its 
way  through  lava  rocks,  and  still  bearing  the  ice-chill  of 
Shasta.  Dark  feathery  firs  stand  in  files  along  the  swift 
river.  Oaks,  with  lustrous  leaves,  rise  above  hill-slopes 
of  red  and  brown.  Numbers  of  Indian  camps  are  posted 
here.  I  find  them  picturesque :  low  conical  huts,  open- 
ing upon  small  smoking  fires  attended  by  squaws. 
Numberless  salmon,  split  and  drying  in  rows  upon  light 
scaffoldings,  make  their  light-red  conspicuous  amid  the 
generally  dingy  surroundings. 

Tliese  Indian  faces  are  fairly  good-natured,  especially 
when  young.  I  visited  one  camp,  upon  the  left  river 
bank,  finding  ]\Iadam  at  home  seated  by  her  fireside  en- 
gaged in  maternal  duties.  I  am  almost  afraid  to  describe 
the  squallor  and  grotesque  hideousness  of  her  person. 
She  was  emaciated  and  scantily  clad  in  a  sort  of  short 


SHASTA.  227 

petticoat,  shaggy,  unkempt  hair  overhanging  a  pair  of  wild 
woK's  eyes.  The  ribs  and  collar-bone  stood  out  as  upon 
an  anatomical  specimen ;  hard  black  flesh  clinging  in 
formless  masses  upon  her  body  and  arms.  Altogether 
she  had  the  appearance  of  an  animated  mummy.  Her 
child,  a  mere  amorphous  roll,  clung  to  her,  and  empha- 
sized, with  cubbish  fatness,  the  wan,  shrunken  form  of 
its  mother,  looking  like  some  ravenous  leech  which  was 
draining  the  woman's  very  blood.  Shuddering,  I  hurried 
away  to  observe  the  husband. 

The  "  buck  "  was  spearing  salmon  a  short  distance  down 
stream,  his  naked  form  poised  upon  a  beam  which  pro- 
jected over  the  river,  his  eyes  riveted,  and  spear  uplifted 
waiting  for  the  prey ;  sunlight,  streaming  down  in  broken 
masses  through  trees,  fell  brilliantly  upon  his  muscular 
shoulder  and  tense  compact  thigh,  glancing  now  and  then 
across  rigid  arms  and  the  polished  point  of  his  spear. 
The  swift  dark  water  rushed  beneath  him,  flashing  upon 
its  surface  a  shimmering  reflection  of  his  red  figure.  Cast 
in  bronze  he  would  have  made  a  companion  for  Quincy 
Ward's  Indian  hunter ;  and  better  than  a  companion,  for 
in  his  wolfish  sinew  and  panther  muscle  there  was  not,  so 
far  as  I  could  observe,  that  free  Greek  suppleness  which 
is  so  fine  a  feature  in  Mr.  Ward's  statue ,  though  Ajax, 
disguised  as  an  American  Indian,  might  be  a  better  name 
for  that  great  and  powerful  piece  of  sculpture. 

A  day's  march  brought  us  from  McCloud  to  the  Sacra- 
mento here  a  small  stream,  with  banks  fringed  by  a 
pleasing  variety  of  trees  and  margins  graceful  with  water- 
plants. 

Northward  for  two  days  we  followed  closely  the  line 
of  the  Sacramento  Eiver,  now  descending  along  slopes  to 
its  bed,  where  the  stream  played  among  picturesque 
rocks  and  Boulders,  and  again  climbing  by  toilsome  as- 


228  MOUNTAINEERING   IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

cents  into  the  forest  a  thousand  feet  up  on  the  canon 
wall,  catching  glimpses  of  towering  ridges  of  pine-clad 
Sierra  above,  and  curves  of  the  foaming  river  deep  in  the 
blue  shadow  beneath  us. 

More  and  more  the  woods  became  darkened  with  moun- 
tain pine,  the  air  freshened  by  nortliern  life  gave  us  the 
inspiration  of  altitude. 

At  last,  through  a  notch  to  the  northward,  rose  the 
conical  summit  of  Shasta,  its  pale,  rosy  lavas  enamelled 
with  ice.  Body  and  base  of  the  great  peak  were  hidden 
by  intervening  hills,  over  whose  smooth  rolls  of  forest 
green  the  bright,  blue  sky  and  the  brilliant  Shasta  sum- 
mit were  sharp  and  strong.  From  that  moment  the  peak 
became  the  centre  of  our  life.  From  every  crest  we 
strained  our  eyes  forward,  as  nov^^  and  then,  either  through 
forest  vistas  the  incandescent  snow  greeted  us,  or  from 
some  high  summit  the  opening  canon  walls  displayed 
gTander  and  grander  views  of  the  great  volcano.  It  was 
sometimes,  after  all,  a  pleasure  to  descend  from  these  cool 
heights,  with  the  innpression  of  the  mountain  upon  our 
minds,  to  the  canon  bottom,  where,  among  the  endlessly 
varying  bits  of  beautiful  detail,  the  mental  strain  wore 
off. 

When  our  tents  were  pitched  at  Sisson's,  while  a  pic- 
turesque haze  floated  up  from  southward,  we  enjoyed  the 
grand  uncertain  form  of  Shasta  with  its  heaven-piercing 
crest  of  white,  and  wide  placid  sweep  of  base  ;  full  of  lines 
as  deeply  reposeful  as  a  Greek  temple.  Its  dark  head 
lifted  among  the  fading  stars  of  dawn,  and  strongly  set 
upon  the  arch  of  coming  rose,  appealed  to  our  emotions ; 
but  best  we  liked  to  sit  at  evening  near  Hunger's  easel, 
watching  the  great  lava  cone  glow  with  light  almost  as 
wild  and  lurid  as  if  its  crater  still  streamed. 

Watkins  thought  it "  photographic  luck  "  that  the  moun- 


SHASTA.  229 

tain  should  so  have  draped  itself  with  mist  as  to  defy  his 
camera.  Palmer  stayed  at  cainp  to  make  observations  in 
the  coloring  of  meerschaums  at  fixed  altitudes,  and  to 
watch  now  and  then  the  station  barometer. 

Shasta  from  Sisson's  is  a  broad  triple  mountain,  the 
central  summit  being  flanked  on  the  west  by  a  large  and 
quite  perfect  crater  whose  rim  reaches  about  twelve  thou- 
sand feet  altitude.  On  the  west  a  broad  shoulder-like 
spur  juts  from  the  general  slope.  The  cone  rises  from  its 
base  eleven  thousand  feet  in  one  sweep. 

A  forest  of  tall,  rich  pines  surrounds  Strawberry  Valley, 
and  the  little  group  of  ranches  near  Sisson's.  Under  this 
high  sky,  and  a  pure  quality  of  light,  the  wdiole  A^aried 
foreground  of  green  and  gold  stretches  out  toward  the 
rocky  mountain  base  in  charming  contrast.  Brooks  from 
the  snow  thread  their  way  through  open  meadow,  waving 
overhead  a  tent-work  of  willows,  silvery  aiid  cool. 

Shasta,  as  a  whole,  is  the  single  cone  of  an  immense 
extinct  volcano.  It  occupies  almost  precisely  the  axial 
line  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  but  the  range,  instead  of  carry- 
ing its  great  wave-like  ridge  through  this  region,  breaks 
down  in  the  neiofliborhood  of  Lassen's  Butte,  and  for 
eighty  miles  northward  is  only  represented  by  low  con- 
fused masses  of  mountain  cut  through  and  through  by  the 
canons  of  the  McCloud,  Pitt,  and  Sacramento. 

A  broad  volcanic  plain,  interrupted  here  and  there  by 
inconsiderable  chains,  occupies  the  country  east  of  Scott's 
Mountain.  From  this  general  plain,  whose  altitude  is 
from  twenty-five  hundred  to  thirty-five  hundred  feet, 
rises  Mount  Shasta.  About  its  base  cluster  hillocks  of  a 
hundred  little  volcanoes,  but  they  are  utterly  incon- 
spicuous under  the  shadow  of  the  great  peak.  The  vol- 
canic plain-land  is  partly  overgrown  by  forest,  and  in 
part  covers  itself  with  fields  of  grass  or  sage.     Biding 


230  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

over  it  in  almost  any  part  the  one  great  point  in  the 
landscape  is  the  cone  of  Shasta ;  its  crest  of  solid  white, 
its  vast  altitude,  the  pale-gray  or  rosy  tints  of  its  lavas, 
and  the  dark  girdle  of  forest  which  swells  up  over  canon- 
carved  foothills  give  it  a  grandeur  equalled  by  hardly 
any  American  mountain. 

September  11th  found  the  climbers  of  our  party, — 
S.  F.  Emmons,  Frederick  A.  Clark,  Albert  B.  Clark,  Mr. 
Sisson,  the  pioneer  guide  of  the  region,  and  myself, — 
mounted  upon  our  mules  heading  for  the  crater  cone  over 
rough  rocks  and  among  the  stunted  firs  and  pines  which 
mark  the  upper  limit  of  forest  growth.  The  morning 
was  cool  and  clear  with  a  fresh  north  wind  sweeping 
around  the  volcano  and  bringing  in  its  descent  invigora- 
ting cold  of  the  snow  region.  When  we  had  gone  as  far 
as  our  mules  could  carry  us,  threading  their  difficult 
way  among  piles  of  lava,  we  dismounted  and  made  up 
our  packs  of  beds,  instruments,  food,  and  fuel  for  a  three 
days'  trip,  turned  the  animals  over  to  George  and  John, 
our  two  muleteers,  bade  them  good  day,  and  with  Sisson, 
who  was  to  accompany  us  up  the  first  descent,  struck  out 
on  foot.  Already  above  vegetation,  we  looked  out  over 
all  the  valley  south  and  west,  observing  its  arabesque  of 
forest,  meadow,  and  chaparral,  the  files  of  pines  which 
struggled  up  almost  to  our  feet^  and  just  below  us  the 
volcano  slope  strewn  with  red  and  brown  wreck  and 
patches  of  shrunken  snow-drift. 

Our  climb  up  the  steep  western  crater  slope  was  slow 
and  tiresome,  quite  without  risk  or  excitement.  The 
footing,  altogether  of  lodged  debris,  at  times  gave  way 
provokingly,  and  threw  us  out  of  balance.  Once  iipon 
the  spiry  pinnacles  which  crown  the  crater  rim,  a  scene 
of  wild  power  broke  upon  us.  The  round  crater-bowl, 
about  a  mile  in  diameter  and  nearly  a  thousand  feet 


SHASTA.  231 

deep,  lay  beneath  us,  its  steep,  slielving  sides  of  shat- 
tered lava  mantled  in  places  to  the  very  bottom  by  fields 
of  snow. 

We  clambered  along  the  edge  toward  Shasta,  and  came 
to  a  place  where  for  a  thousand  feet  it  was  a  mere  blade 
of  ice,  sharpened  by  the  snow  into  a  thin,  frail  edge, 
upon  which  we  walked  in  cautious  balance,  a  misstep 
likely  to  hurl  us  down  into  the  chaos  of  lava  blocks 
within  the  crater. 

Passing  this,  we  reached  the  north  edge  of  the  rim, 
and  from  a  rugged  mound  of  shattered  rock  looked  down 
into  a  gorge  between  us  and  the  main  Shasta.  There, 
winding  its  huge  body  along,  lay  a  glacier,  riven  with 
sharp,  deep  crevasses  yawning  fifty  or  sixty  feet  wide, 
the  blue  hollows  of  their  shadowed  depth  contrasting 
with  the  brilliant  surfaces  of  ice. 

We  studied  its  whole  length  from  the  far,  high  Shasta 
crest  down  in  winding  course,  deepening  its  canon  more 
and  more  as  it  extends,  crowding  past  our  crater  cone, 
and  at  last  terminating  in  bold  ice-billows  and  a  wide 
belt  of  hilly  moraine.  The  surface  over  half  of  its  length 
was  quite  clean,  but  directly  opposite  us  occurs  a  fine  ice 
cascade;  tliere  its  entire  surface  is  cut  with  transverse 
crevasses,  which  have  a  general  tendency  to  curve  down- 
ward ;  and  all  this  dislocation  is  accompanied  by  a  freight 
of  lava  blocks  which  shoot  down  the  canon  walls  on 
either  side,  bounding  out  all  over  the  glacier. 

In  a  later  trip,  while  Watkins  was  making  his  photo- 
graphic views,  I  climbed  about,  going  to  the  edges  of 
some  crevasses  and  looking  over  into  their  blue  vaults, 
where  icicles  overhang  and  a  whispered  sound  of  water- 
flow  comes  up  faintly  from  beneath. 

From  a  point  about  midway  across  where  I  had  climbed 
and  rested  upon  the  brink  of  an  ice-cliff,  the  glacier  below 


232  MOUNTAINEERING   IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

me  breaking  off  into  its  wild  j)ile  of  cascade  blocks  and 
serac,  I  looked  down  over  all  the  lower  flow,  broken  with 
billowy  upheavals,  and  bright  with  bristling  spires 
of  sunlit  ice.  Upon  the  right  rose  the  great  cone  of 
Shasta,  formed  of  chocolate-colored  lavas,  its  skyline  a 
single  curved  sweep  of  snow  cut  sharply  against  a  deep 
blue  sky.  To  the  left  the  precipices  of  the  lesser  cone 
rose  to  the  altitude  of  twelve  thousand  feet,  their  surfaces 
half  jagged  ledges  of  lava  and  half  irregular  sheets  of  ice. 
From  my  feet  the  glacier  sank  rapidly  between  volcanic 
walls,  and  the  shadow  of  the  lesser  cone  fell  in  a  dark 
band  across  the  brilliantly  lighted  surface.  Looking 
down  its  course,  my  eye  ranged  over  sunny  and  shadowed 
zones  of  ice,  over  the  gray,  boulder  region  of  the  terminal 
moraine ;  still  lower,  along  the  former  track  of  ancient  and 
grander  glaciers,  and  down  upon  undulating  pine-clad  foot- 
hills descending  in  green  steps,  reaching  out  like  promon- 
tories into  the  sea  of  plain  which  lay  outspread  nine  thou- 
sand feet  below,  basking  in  the  half-tropical  sunshine,  its 
checkered  green  fields  and  orchards  ripening  their  wheat 
and  figs. 

Our  little  party  separated,  each  going  about  his  labor. 
The  Clarks,  with  theodolite  and  barometer,  were  engaged 
on  a  pinnacle  over  on  the  western  crater-edge.  Mr. 
Sisson,  who  had  helped  us  thus  far  with  a  huge  pack-load 
of  wood,  now  said  good  by,  and  was  soon  out  of  sight 
on  his  homeward  tramp.  Emmons  and  I  geologized 
about  the  rim  and  interior  slope,  getting  at  last  out  of 
sight  of  one  another. 

In  mid-crater  sprang  up  a  sharp  cone  several  hundred 
feet  high,  composed  of  much  shattered  lava,  and  indi- 
cating doubtless  the  very  latest  volcanic  activity.  At  its 
base  lay  a  small  lakelet,  frozen  over  with  rough  black 
ice.     Far  below  us,  cold,  gray  banks  and  floating  flocks 


SHASTA.  233 

of  vapor  began  to  drift  and  circle  about  the  lava  slopes, 
rising  higher  at  sunset,  till  they  quite  enveloped  us,  and 
at  times  shut  out  the  view. 

Later  we  met  for  bivouac,  spread  our  •  beds  upon  small 
debris  under  lee  of  a  mass  of  rock  on  the  rim,  and  built 
a  little  camp-fire,  around  which  w^e  sat  closely.  Clouds 
still  eddied  about  us,  opening  now  wide  rifts  of  deep- 
blue  sky,  and  then  glimpses  of  the  Shasta  summit  glow- 
ing wdth  evening  light,  and  again  view^s  down  upon  the 
far  earth,  wdiere  sunlight  had  long  faded,  leaving  forest 
and  field  and  village  sunken  in  purple  gloom.  Through 
the  old  broken  crater  lip,  over  foreground  of  pallid  ice 
and  sharp  black  lava  rocks,  the  clouds  whirled  away, 
and,  yawning  wdde,  revealed  an  objectless  expanse,  out 
of  which  emerged  dim  mountain  tops,  for  a  moment 
seen,  then  veiled.  Thus,  in  the  midst  of  clouds,  I  found 
it  extremely  interesting  to  watch  them  and  their  habits. 
Drifting  slowly  across  the  crater-bowl  I  saw^  them  float 
over  and  among  the  points  of  cindery  lava,  whose  savage 
forms  contrasted  wonderfully  wdth  the  infinite  softness 
of  their  texture. 

I  found  it  strange  and  suggestive  that  fields  of  per- 
petual snow^  should  mantle  the  slopes  of  an  old  lava 
caldron,  that  the  very  volcano's  tliroat  should  be  choked 
with  a  pure  little  lakelet,  and  sealed  wdth  unmelting  ice. 
That  power  of  extremes,  wdiich  held  sway  over  lifeless 
nature  before  there  w-ere  human  hearts  to  experience  its 
crush,  expressed  itself  with  poetic  eloquence.  Had  Lowell 
been  in  our  bivouac,  I  know  he  must  have  felt  again  the 
power  of  his  own  perfect  figure  of 

"  Burned-out  craters  healed  with  snow." 

It  was  a  wild  moment.  Wind  smiting  in  shocks  against 
the  rock  beside  us,  flaring  up  our  little  fire,  and  whirling 


234  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

on  with,  its  cloiid-freiglit  into  the  darkening  crater 
gulf. 

We  turned  in ;  the  Clarks  together,  Emmons  and  I  in 
our  fur  bags.  Upon  cold  stone  our  bed  was  anything  but 
comfortable,  angular  fragments  of  trachyte  finding  their 
way  with  great  directness  among  our  ribs  and  under 
shoulder-blades,  keeping  us  almost  awake  in  that  de- 
spairing semi-consciousness  where  dreams  and  thoughts 
tangle  in  tiresome  confusion. 

Just  after  midnight,  from  sheer  weariness,  I  arose,  find- 
ing the  sky  cloudless,  its  whole  black  dome  crowded  with 
stars.  A  silver  dawn  over  the  slope  of  Shasta  brightened 
till  the  moon  sailed  clear.  Under  its  light  all  the  rugged 
topography  came  out  with  unnatural  distinctness,  every 
impression  of  height  and  depth  greatly  exaggerated.  The 
empty  crater  lifted  its  rampart  into  the  light.  I  could 
not  tell  which  seemed  most  desolate,  that  dim  moonlit 
rim  with  pallid  snow-mantle  and  gaunt  crags,  or  the  solid 
black  shadow  which  was  cast  downward  from  southern 
walls,  darkening  half  the  bowl.  From  the  silent  air 
every  breath  of  wind  or  whisper  of  sound  seemed  frozen. 
Naked  lava  slopes  and  walls,  the  high  gray  body  of 
Shasta  with  ridge  and  gorge,  glacier  and  snow-field,  all 
cold  and  still  under  the  icy  brightness  of  the  moon,  pro- 
duced a  scene  of  Arctic  terribleness  such  as  I  had  never 
imagined.  I  looked  down,  eagerly  straining  my  eyes, 
through  the  solemn  crater's  lip,  hoping  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  lower  world;  but  far  below,  hiding  the  earth, 
stretched  out  a  level  plain  of  cloud,  upon  which  the 
light  fell  cold  and  gray  as  upon  a  frozen  ocean. 

I  scrambled  back  to  bed,  and  happily  to  sleep,  a  real, 
sound,  dreamless  repose. 

We  breakfasted  some  time  after  sunrise,  and  were  soon 
under  way  with  packs  on  our  shoulders. 


SHASTA.  235 

The  day  was  brilliant  and  cloudless,  the  cold,  still  air 
full  of  life  and  inspiration.  Through  its  clear  blue  the 
Shasta  peak  seemed  illusively  near,  and  we  hurried  down 
to  the  saddle  which  connects  our  cone  with  the  peak,  and 
across  the  head  of  a  small  tributary  glacier,  and  up  over 
the  first  debris  slopes.  It  was  a  slow,  tedious  three  hours' 
climb  over  stones  which  lay  as  steeply  as  loose  material 
possibly  can,  up  to  the  base  of  a  red  trachyte  spur ;  then 
on  up  a  gorge,  and  out  upon  a  level  mountain  shoulder, 
where  are  considerable  flats  covered  with  deep  ice.  To 
the  north  it  overflows  in  a  much  crevassed  tributary  of 
the  glacier  w^e  had  studied  below. 

Here  we  rested,  and  hung  the  barometer  from  Clark's 
tripod. 

The  further  ascent  lies  up  a  long  scoria  ridge  of  loose, 
red,  pumiceous  rock  for  seven  or  eight  hundred  feet,  then 
across  another  level  step  curved  with  rugged  ice,  and  up 
into  a  sort  of  corridor  between  two  steep,  much  broken, 
and  stained  ridges.  Here  in  the  hollow  are  boiling  sul- 
phurous springs  and  hot  earth.  We  sat  down  by  them, 
eating  our  lunch  in  the  lee  of  some  stones. 

A  short,  rapid  climb  brought  us  to  the  top ;  four  hours 
and  thirty  minutes  working  time  from  our  crater  bivouac. 

There  is  no  reason  why  any  one  of  sound  wdnd  and 
limb  should  not,  after  a  little  mountaineering  practice,  be 
able  to  make  the  Shasta  climb.  There  is  nowhere  the 
shadow  of  danger  and  never  a  real  piece  of  mountain 
climbing,  —  climbing,  I  mean,  with  hands  and  feet,  —  no 
scaling  of  walls  or  labor  involving  other  qualities  than 
simple  muscular  endurance.  The  fact  that  two  young 
girls  have  made  the  ascent  proves  it  a  comparatively  easy 
one.  Indeed,  I  have  never  reached  a  corresponding  alti- 
tude with  So  little  labor  and  difficulty.  Whoever  visits 
California,  and  wishes  to  depart  from  the  beaten  track  of 


236  MOUNTAINEERING   IN   THE    SIERRA   NEVADA. 

Yosemite  scenes,  could  not  do  better  than  come  to  Straw- 
berry Valley  and  get  Mr.  Sisson  to  pilot  him  up  Shasta. 

"When  I  ask  myself  to-day  what  w^ere  the  sensations  on 
Shasta,  they  render  themselves  into  three,  —  geograj^hy, 
shadows,  and  uplifted  isolation. 

After  we  had  walked  alono-  a  short  curved  ridc^e  which 
forms  the  summit, representing,  as  I  believe,  all  that  remains 
of  the  original  crater,  it  became  my  occupation  to  study 
the  view. 

A  singularly  transparent  air  revealed  every  plain  and 
peak  on  till  the  earth's  curve  rolled  them  under  remote 
horizons.  The  whole  great  disc  of  world  outsj)read  be- 
neath wore  an  aspect  of  glorious  cheerfulness.  The  cas- 
cade range,  a  roll  of  blue  forest  land,  stretched  northward, 
surmounted  at  intervals  by  volcanoes;  the  lower,  like 
symmetrical  Mount  Pitt,  bare  and  warm  with  rosy  lava 
colors ;  those  farther  north  lifting  against  the  pale,  hori- 
zon-blue solid  wdiite  cones  upon  which  strong  light  rested 
wdth  brilliance.  It  seemed  incredible  that  we  could  see 
so  far  toward  the  Columbia  Eiver,  almost  across  the  State 
of  Oresjon,  but  there  stood  Pitt,  Jefferson,  and  the  Three 
Sisters  in  unmistakable  plainness.  Northeast  and  east 
spread  those  great  plains  out  of  which  rise  low  lava 
chains,  and  a  few  small,  burned-out  volcanoes,  and  there, 
too,  were  the  group  of  Klamath  and  Goose  Lakes  lying  in 
mid  plain  glassing  the  deep  upper  violet.  Farther  and  far- 
ther from  our  mountain  base  in  that  direction  the  greenness 
of  forest  and  meadow^  fades  out  into  rich  mellow  brown, 
with  w^arm  cloudings  of  sienna  over  bare  lava  hills,  and 
shades,  as  you  reach  the  eastern  limit,  in  pale  ash  and 
lavender  and  buff,  where  stretches  of  level  land  slope 
down  over  Madelin  plains  into  Nevada  deserts.  An  un- 
mistakable purity  and  delicacy  of  tint,  with  transparent 
air  and  paleness  of  tone,  give  all  desert  scenes  the  aspect 


SHASTA.  237 

of  water-color  drawings.  Even  at  this  immense  distance 
I  could  see  the  gradual  change  from  rich,  warm  hues  of 
rocky  slope,  or  plain  overspread  with  ripened  vegetation, 
out  to  the  high  pale  key  of  the  desert. 

Southeast  the  mountain  spurs  are  smoothed  into  a 
broad  glacis,  densely  overgrown  with  chaparral,  and  end- 
ing in  open  groves  around  plains  of  yellow  grass. 

A  little  farther  begin  the  wild,  canon-curved  piles  of 
green  mountains  which  represent  the  Sierras,  and  afar, 
towering  over  them,  eighty  miles  away,  the  lava  dome 
of  Lassen's  Peak  standing  up  bold  and  fine.  South,  the 
Sacramento  canon  cuts  down  to  unseen  depths,  its  deep 
trough  opening  a  view  of  the  California  plain,  a  brown, 
sunny  expanse,  over  which  loom  in  vanishing  perspective 
the  coast  range  peaks.  West  of  us,  and  quite  around  the 
semicircle  of  view,  stretches  a  vast  sea  of  ridges,  chains, 
peaks,  and  sharp  walls  of  canons,  as  wild  and  tumultuous 
as  an  ocean  storm.  Here  and  there  above  the  blue  bil- 
lows rise  snow-crests  and  shaggy  rock-chains,  but  the 
topography  is  indistinguishable.  With  difficulty  I  could 
trace  for  a  short  distance  the  Klamath  canon  course, 
recognizing  Siskiyou  peaks,  where  Professor  Brewer  and 
I  had  been  years  before ;  but  in  that  broad  area  no  fur- 
ther unravelling  was  possible.  So  high  is  Shasta,  so 
dominant  above  the  field  of  view,  we  looked  over  it  all 
as  upon  a  great  shield  which  rose  gently  in  all  directions 
to  the  sky. 

AVhichever  way  we  turned  the  great  cone  fell  off  from 
our  feet  in  dizzying  abruptness.  We  looked  down  steep 
slopes  of  neve,  on  over  shattered  ice-wreck,  where  gla- 
ciers roll  over  cliffs,  and  around  the  whole  broad  massive 
base  curved  deeply  through  its  lava  crusts  in  straight 
canons. 

These   flutings  of   ancient   and  grander  glaciers   are 


238  MOrNTAINEERING  IN   THE   SIEERA  NEVADA. 

flanked  by  straight,  long  moraines,  for  the  most  part  bare, 
but  reaching  down  part  way  into  the  forest.  It  is  in- 
teresting to  observe  that  those  on  the  north  and  east,  by 
greater  massiveness  and  length,  indicate  that  in  former 
days  the  glacier  distribution  w^as  related  to  the  points  of 
compass  about  as  it  is  now.  What  volumes  of  geog- 
raphical history  lay  in  view !  Old  mountain  uplift ; 
volcanoes  built  upon  tlie  2:)lain  of  fiery  lava;  the  chill 
of  ice  and  wearing  force  of  torrent,  written  in  glacier- 
gorge  and  water-curved  canon ! 

I  think  such  vastness  of  prospect  now  and  then  ex- 
tremely valuable  in  itself ;  it  forcibly  widens  one's  con- 
ception of  country,  driving  away  such  false  notion  of 
extent  or  narrowing  idea  of  limitation  as  we  get  in  living 
on  lowxr  plains. 

I  never  tire  of  overlooking  these  great  wide  fields, 
studying  their  rich  variety,  and  giving  myself  up  to  the 
expansion  which  is  the  instant  and  lasting  reward.  In 
presence  of  these  vast  spaces  and  all  but  unbounded  out- 
look, the  hours  hurry  by  with  singular  swiftness.  Minutes 
or  miles  are  nothing ;  days  and  degrees  seem  best  fitted 
for  one's  thoughts.  So  it  came  sooner  than  I  could  have 
believed  that  the  sun  neared  its  setting,  sinking  into  a 
warm,  bright  stratum  of  air.  The  light  stretched  from 
north  to  south,  reflecting  itself  with  an  equal  depth  all 
along  the  east,  until  a  perfect  ring  of  soft,  glowing  rose 
edged  the  whole  horizon.  Over  us  the  ever  dark  heaven 
hung  near  and  flat.  Light  swept  eastward  across  the 
earth,  every  uplift  of  .hill-ridge  or  solitary  cone  warm  and 
bright  with  its  reflections,  and  from  each  object  upon  the 
plains,  far  and  near,  streamed  out  dense,  sharp  shadows, 
slowly  lengthening  their  intense  images.  We  were  far 
enough  lifted  above  it  all  to  lose  the  ordinary  landscape 
impression,  and  reach  that  extraordinary  effect  of  black- 


SHASTA.  239 

and-briglit  topography  seen  Tipon  the  moon  through  a 
telescope. 

Afar  in  the  north,  bars  of  blue  shadow  streamed  out 
from  the  peaks,  tracing  themselves  upon  rosy  air.  All 
the  eastern  slope  of  Shasta  was  of  course  in  dark  shade, 
the  gray  glacier  forms,  broken  ridges  of  stone,  and  forest 
all  dim  and  fading.  A  long  cone  of  cobalt-blue,  the 
shadow  of  Shasta  fell  strongly  defined  over  the  bright 
plain,  its  apex  darkening  the  earth  a  hundred  miles  away. 
As  the  sun  sank,  this  gigantic  spectral  volcano  rose  on 
the  warm  sky  till  its  darker  form  stood  huge  and  terri- 
ble over  the  whole  east.  It  was  intensely  distinct  at  the 
summit,  just  as  far-away  peaks  seen  against  the  east  in 
evening  always  are,  and  faded  at  base  as  it  entered  the 
stratum  of  earth  mist. 

Grand  and  impressive  we  had  thought  Shasta  when 
studying  in  similar  light  from  the  plain.  Infinitely  more 
impressive  Was  this  phantom  volcano  as  it  stood  over- 
shadowing the  land  and  slowly  fading  into  night. 

Before  quitting  the  ridge,  Fred  Clark  and  I  climbed 
together  out  upon  the  highest  pinnacle,  a  trachyte  needle 
rising  a  few  feet  above  the  rest,  and  so  small  we  could 
barely  balance  there  together,  but  we  stood  a  .moment 
and  waved  the  American  flag,  looking  down  over  our 
shoulders  eleven  thousand  feet. 

A  fierce  wind  blew  from  the  southwest,  coming  in 
gusts  of  great  force.  Below,  we  could  hear  it  beat  surf- 
like upon  the  crags.  We  hurried  down  to  the  hot-spring 
flat,  and  just  over  the  curve  of  its  southern  descent  made 
our  bivouac:  Even  here  the  wind  howled  merciless  and 
cold. 

We  turned  to  and  built  of  lava  blocks  a  square  pen 
about  two  and  a  half  feet  high,  filled  the  chinks  with 
pebbles,  and  banked  it  with  sand.     I  have  seen  other 


240  MOUNTAINEEKING  IN   THE   SIERKA  NEVADA. 

brown-stone  fronts  more  imposing  than  our  Shasta  home, 
but  I  have  rarely  felt  more  grateful  to  four  walls  than  to 
that  little  six-by-six  pen,  I  have  not  forgotten  that 
through  its  chinks  the  sand-  and  pebbles  pelted  us  all 
night,  nor  was  I  oblivious  when  sudden  gusts  toppled 
over  here  and  there  a  good-sized  rock  upon  our  feet. 
When  w^e  sat  up  for  our  cup  of  coffee,  which  Clark  artis- 
tically concocted  over  the  scanty  and  economical  fire,  the 
walls  sheltered  our  backs  ;  and  for  that  we  were  thankful, 
even  if  the  wind  had  full  sweep  at  our  heads  and  stole 
the  very  draught  from  our  lips,  whirling  it  about  north 
forty  east  by  compass,  in  the  form  of  an  infinitesimal 
spray.  The  zephyr,  as  we  courteously  called  it,  had  a 
fashion  of  dropping  vertically  out  of  the  sky  upon  our 
fire  and  leaving  a  clean  hearth.  For  the  space  of  a  few 
moments  after  these  meteorological  jokes  there  was  a 
lively  gathering  of  burning  knots  from  among  our  legs 
and  coats  and  blankets. 

There  are  times  when  the  extreme  of  discomfort  so 
overdoes  itself  as  to  extort  a  laugh  and  put  one  in  the 
best  of  humor.  This  tempest  descended  to  so  many 
absurd  personal  tricks  altogether  beneath  the  dignity  of 
a  reputable  hurricane,  that  at  last  it  seemed  to  us  a  sort 
of  furious  burlesque. 

Not  so  the  cold  ;  that  commanded  entire  respect, 
whether  carefully  abstracting  our  animal  heat  through 
the  bed  of  gravel  on  w^hich  we  lay,  or  brooding  over  us 
hungry  for  those  pleasant  little  waves  of  motion  which, 
taking  Tyndall  for  granted,  radiated  all  night  long,  in 
spite  of  v^ildcat  bags,  from  our  unwilling  particles.  I 
abominate  thermometers  at  such  times.  Not  one  of  my  set 
ever  owned  up  the  real  state  of  things.  Whenever  I  am 
nearly  frozen  and  conscious  of  every  indurated  bone,  that 
bland  little  instrument  is  sure  to  read  twenty  or  thirty 


SHASTA.  241 

degrees  above  any  unprejudiced  estimate.  Lying  there 
and  listening  to  the  whispering  sands  that  kindly  drifted, 
ever  adding  to  our  cover,  and  speculating  as  to  any  fur- 
ther possible  meteorological  affliction  was  but  indifferent 
amusement,  from  which  I  escaped  to  a  slumber  of  great 
industry.  We  lay  like  sardines  hoping  to  encourage  ani- 
mal heat,  but  with  small  success. 

The  sunrise  effect,  with  all  its  splendor,  I  find  it  con- 
venient to  leave  to  some  future  traveller.  I  shall  be 
generous  with  him,  and  say  nothing  of  that  hour  of  gold. 
It  had  occurred  long  before  we  awoke,  and  many  precious 
minutes  were  consumed  in  united  appeals  to  one  another 
to  get  up  and  make  coffee.  It  was  horridly  cold  and  un- 
comfortable where  we  were,  but  no  one  stirred.  How 
natural  it  is  under  such  circumstances  to 

**  Rather  bear  those  ills  we  have 
Than  fly  to  others  that  we  know  not  of." 

I  lay  musing  on  this,  finding  it  singular  that  I  should 
rather  be  there  stiff  and  cold  while  my  like-minded  com- 
rades appealed  to  me,  than  to  get  up  and  comfort  myself 
with  camp-fire  and  breakfast.  We  severally  awaited 
developments. 

At  last  Clark  gave  up  and  made  the  fire,  and  he  has 
left  me  in  doubt  whether  he  loved  cold  less  or  coffee 
more. 

Digging  out  our  breakfast  from  drifted  sand  was  pleas- 
ant enough,  nor  did  we  object  to  excavating  the  frozen 
shoes,  but  the  mixture  of  disintegrated  trachyte  discov- 
ered among  the  sugar,  and  the  manner  in  which  our 
brown-stone  front  had  blown  over  and  flattened  out  the 
family  provisions  was  received  by  us  as  calamity. 

However,  we  did  justice  to  Clark's  coffee,  and  socially 
toasted  our  bits  of  meat,  while  we  chatted  and  ate  zest- 
11  p 


242  MOUNTAINEEEING  IN   THE   SIEREA  NEVADA, 

fully  portions  not  too  freely  brecciated  with  lava  sand.  I 
have  been  at  times  all  but  morbidly  aware  of  the  power 
of  local  attachment,  finding  it  absurdly  hard  to  turn  the 
key  on  doors  I  have  entered  often  and  with  pleasure.. 
My  own  early  home,  though  in  other  hands,  holds  its 
own  against  greater  comfort,  larger  cheer ;  and  a  hundred 
times,  when  our  little  train  moved  away  from  grand  old 
trees  or  willow-shaded  springs  by  mountain  camps,  I 
have  felt  all  the  pathos  of  nomadism,  from  the  Aryan 
migration  down. 

As  we  shouldered  our  loads  and  took  to  the  ice-field  I 
looked  back  on  our  modest  edifice,  and  for  the  first  time 
left  my  camp  with  gay  relief. 

Elation  of  success  and  the  vital  mountain  air  lent  us 
their  quickening  impulse.  We  tramped  rapidly  across 
the  ice-field  and  down  a  long  spur  of  red  trachyte,  which 
extended  in  a  southerly  course  around  the  head  of  a 
glacier.  It  was  our  purpose  to  descend  the  southern 
slope  of  the  mountain,  to  a  camp  which  had  been  left 
there  awaiting  us.  The  declivity  in  that  direction  is 
more  gentle  than  by  our  former  trail,  and  had  besides  the 
merit  of  lying  open  to  our  view  almost  from  the  very 
start.  It  was  interesting,  as  we  followed  the  red  trachyte 
spur,  to  look  down  to  our  left  upon  neve  of  the  McCloud 
glacier.  From  its  very  head,  dislocation  and  crevasses 
had  begun,  the  whole  mass  moving  away  from  the  wall, 
leaving  a  deep  gap  between  ice  and  rock.  In  its  further 
descent  this  glacier  pours  over  such  steep  cascades,  and 
is  so  tortuous  among  the  lava  crags  that  we  could  only 
see  its  beginning.  To  avoid  those  great  pyramidal  masses 
which  sprung  fully  a  thousand  feet  from  the  general  flank 
of  the  mountain,  we  turned  to  the  right  and  entered  the 
head  of  one  of  those  long,  eroded  glacier  canons  which 
are  scored  down  the  slope.     The  ridges  from  both  sides 


SHASTA.  243 

had  poured  in  their  freight  of  debris  until  the  canon  was 
one  mass  of  rock  fragments  of  every  conceivable  size  and 
shape.  Here  and  there  considerable  masses  of  ice  and 
relics  of  former  glaciers  lay  up  and  down  the  shaded 
sides,  and,  as  we  descended,  occupied  the  whole  broad 
bottom  of  the  gorge.  We  congratulated  ourselves  when 
the  steep,  upper  debris  slope,  was  passed  and  we  found 
ourselves  upon  the  wavy  ice  of  the  old  glacier.  Numer- 
ous streams  flowed  over  its  irregular  face,  losing  them- 
selves in  the  cracks  and  reappearing  among  the  accumu- 
lation of  boulders  upon  its  surface.  Here  and  there 
glacier  tables  of  considerable  size  rose  above  the  general 
level,  supported  on  slender  ice-columns.  As  the  angle 
here  was  very  steep,  we  amused  ourselves  by  prying 
these  off  their  pedestals  with  our  alpine  stocks,  and 
watching  them  slide  down  before  us. 

More  and  more  the  ice  became  burdened  with  rocks, 
until  at  last  it  wholly  disappeared  under  accumulation  of 
moraine.  Over  this,  for  a  half  mile,  we  tramped,  think- 
ing the  glacier  ended ;  but  in  one  or  two  depressions  I 
again  caught  sight  of  the  ice,  which  led  me  to  believe 
that  a  very  large  portion  of  this  rocky  gorge  may  be 
underlaid  by  old  glacial  remains. 

Tramping  over  this  unstable  moraine,  where  melting 
ice  had  left  the  boulders  in  every  state  of  uncertain  equi- 
librium, we  were  greatly  fatigued,  and  at  last,  the  strain 
telling  seriously  on  our  legs,  we  climbed  over  a  ridge  to 
the  left  of  our  amphitheatre  into  the  next  canon,  which 
was  very  broad  and  open,  with  gentle,  undulating  surface 
diversified  by  rock  plateaus  and  fields  of  glacier  sand. 
Here,  by  the  margin  of  a  little  snow-brook,  and  among 
piles  of  immense  debris,  Emmons  and  I  sat  down  to 
lunch,  and  rested  until  our  friends  came  up. 

A  few  scanty  bunches  of  alpine  plants  began  to  deck 


244  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

the  gray  earth  and  gradually  to  gather  themselves  in  bits 
of  open  sward,  here  and  there  decorated  with  delicate 
flowers.  Near  one  little  spring  meadow  we  came  upon 
gardens  of  a  pale  yellow  flower  with  an  agreeable  aroma- 
tic perfume,  and  after  another  mile  of  straining  on  among 
erratic  boulders  and  over  the  thick-strewn  rock  of  the  old 
moraines,  we  came  to  the  advanced  guard  of  the  forest. 
Battle-twisted  and  gnarled  old  specimens  of  trees,  of 
rugged,  muscular  trunk,  and  scanty,  irregular  branch, 
they  showed  in  every  line  and  color  a  life-long  struggle 
against  their  enemies,  the  avalanche  and  cold.  Gather- 
ing closer  they  grew  in  groves  separated  by  long,  open, 
grassy  glades,  the  clumps  of  trees  twisting  their  roots 
among  the  glacier  blocks.  For  a  long  time  we  followed 
the  pathway  of  an  avalanche.  To  the  right  and  left  of 
us,  upon  considerable  heights,  the  trees  were  sound  and 
whole,  and  preserved,  even  at  their  ripe  age,  the  health 
of  youth.  But  down  the  straight  pathway  of  the  valley 
every  tree  had  been  swxpt  away,  the  prostrate  trunks 
lying  here  and  there,  half  buried  in  drifts  of  sand  and 
rock.  Here,  over  the  whole  surface,  a  fresh  young 
growth  of  not  more  than  six  or  seven  years  old  has 
sprung  up,  and  begun  a  hopeless  struggle  for  ground 
which  the  snow  claims  for  its  own.  Before  us  opened 
winding  avenues  through  forest ;  green  meadows  spread 
their  pale,  fresh  herbage  in  sunny  beauty.  Along  the 
little  stream  which,  after  a  mile's  musical  cascades,  we 
knew  flowed  past  camp,  tender  green  plants  and  frail 
mountain  flowers  edged  our  pathAvay.  All  was  still  and 
peaceful  with  the  soft  brooding  spirit  of  life.  The  groves 
were  absolutely  alive  like  ourselves,  and  drinking  in  the 
broad,  affluent  light  in  their  silent,  beautiful  way.  Back 
over  sunny  tree-tops,  the  great  cone  of  rock  and  ice 
loomed  in  the  cold  blue ;  but  we  gladly  turned  away  and 


SHASTA.  245 

let  our  hearts  open  to  the  gentle  influence  of  our  new 
world. 

There,  at  last ;  as  we  tramped  over  a  knoll,  were  the 
mules  dozing  in  sunshine  or  idling  about  among  trees, 
and  there  that  dear  blue  wreath  floating  up  from  our 
camp-fire  and  drifting  softly  among  boughs  of  overhang- 
ing fir. 

I  always  feel  a  strange  renewal  of  life  when  I  come 
down  from  one  of  these  climbs  ;  they  are  with  me  points 
of  departure  more  marked  and  powerful  than  I  can 
account  for  upon  any  reasonable  ground.  In  spite  of 
any  scientific  labor  or  presence  of  fatigue,  the  lifeless 
region,  with  its  savage  elements  of  sky,  ice  and  rock, 
grasps  one's  nature,  and,  whether  he  will  or  no,  compels 
it  into  a  stern,  strong  accord.  Then,  as  you  come  again 
into  softer  air,  and  enter  the  comforting  presence  of  trees, 
and  feel  the  grass  under  your  feet,  one  fetter  after  another 
seems  to  unbind  from  your  soul,  leaving  it  free,  joyous, 
grateful ! 


246  MOUNTAINEERING  IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 


XIL 


SHASTA   FLANKS. 

There  are  certain  women,  I  am  informed,  who  place 
men  under  their  si^eR  without  leaving  them  the  mel- 
ancholy satisfaction  of  understanding  how  the  thing 
w^as  done.  They  may  have  absolutely  repulsive  fea- 
tures, and  a  pretty  permanent  absence  of  mind ;  without 
that  charm  of  cheerful  grace  before  which  we  are  said 
to  succumb.  Yet  they  manage  to  assume  command  of 
certain.  It  is  thus  with  mules.  I  have  heard  them 
called  awkward  and  personally  plain,  nor  is  it  denied 
that  their  disposition,  though  rich  in  individuality,  lacks 
some  measure  of  qualities  which  should  endear  them  to 
humanity.  Despite  all  this,  and  even  more,  they  have  a 
way  of  tenderly  getting  the  better  of  us,  and,  in  the  long 
run,  absolutely  enthroning  themselves  in  our  affections. 
Mystery  as  it  is  I  confess  to  its  potent  sway,  long  ago 
owning  it  beyond  solution. 

Live  on  the  intimate  terms  of  brother-explorer  with 
your  mule,  be  thoughtful  for  his  welfare,  and  you  by-and- 
by  take  an  emotional  start  toward  him  which  will  sur- 
prise you.  You  look  into  that  reserved  face,  the  embodi- 
ment of  self-contained  drollery,  and  begin  to  detect  soft 
thought  and  tender  feeling ;  and  sometimes,  as  you  cinch 
your  saddle  a  little  severely,  the  calm,  reproachful  visage 
will  swing  round  and  melt  you  with  a  single  look.  Noth- 
ing is  left  but  to  rub  the  velvet  nose  and  loosen  up 
the  girth.     When  the  mere  brightness  and   gayety  of 


SHASTA  FLANKS.  247 

monntain  life  carries  one  away  with  their  hilarious  cur- 
rent, there  is  something  in  the  meek  and  humble  air  of  a 
lot  of  pack  animals  altogether  chastening  in  its  prompt 
effect. 

My  "'69"  was  one  of  these  insidious  beings  who 
within  a  week  of  our  first  meeting  asserted  supremacy 
over  my  life,  and  formed  a  silent  partnership  with  my 
conscience.  She  w^as  a  chubby,  black  mule,  so  sleek  and 
rotund  as  distantly  to  suggest  a  pig  on  stilts.  Upon  the 
eye  which  still  remained,  a  cataract  had  begun  to  spread 
its  dimming  film.  Her  make-up  was  also  defective  in 
a  weak  pair  of  hind  legs,  which  gave  way  suddenly  in 
going  up  steep  places.  She  was  clumsy,  and  in  rugged 
pathways  would  squander  much  time  in  the  selection  of 
her  foothold.  At  these  moments,  when  she  deliberated, 
as  I  fancied,  needlessly  long,  I  have  very  gently  suggested 
with  Spanish  spur  that  it  might  be  as  well  to  start ;  the 
serious  face  then  turned  upon  me,  its  mild  eye  looking 
into  mine  one  long,  earnest  gaze,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  I 
love  and  would  spare  you ;  remember  Balaam ! "  I  yielded. 

These  animals  are  always  of  the  opposition  party ;  they 
reverse  your  wishes,  and  from  one  year's  end  to  another 
defy  your  best  judgment.  Yet  I  love  them,  and  only 
in  extreme  moments  "  go  for  "  them  with  a  fence-rail  or 
theodolite-tripod.  Nothing  can  be  pleasanter  than  to 
ride  them  throudi  forest  roads,  chattino-  in  a  bright  com- 
pany,  and  catching  glimpses  of  far  quiet  scenery  framed 
by  the  long,  furry  ears. 

So  we  thought  on  that  sunny  morning  when  we  left 
Sisson's,  starting  ahead  of  wagons  and  pack  animals,  and 
riding  out  into  tlie  woodland  on  our  trip  around  Shasta ; 
a  march  of  a  hundred  miles,  with  many  proposed  side- 
excursions  into  the  mountain. 

The  California  haze  had  again  enveloped  Shasta,  this 


248  MOUNTAINEERING   IN   THE   SIERRA   NEVADA. 

time  nearly  obscuring  it.  In  forest  along  the  southeast 
base,  we  came  upon  the  stream  flowing  from  McCloud 
glacier,  its  cold  waters  milky  white  with  fine  sandy  sedi- 
ment. Such  dense,  impenetrable  fields  of  chaparral  cover 
the  south  foothills  that  we  were  only  able  to  fight  our 
way  through  limited  parts,  getting,  however,  a  clear  idea 
of  lava  flows  and  topography.  Farther  east,  the  plains 
rise  to  seven  thousand  feet,  and  fine  wooded  ridges  sweep 
down  from  Shasta,  inviting  approach. 

While  Munger  and  Watkins  camped  to  make  studies 
and  negatives  of  the  peak,  Fred  Clark  and  I  packed  one 
mule  with  a  week's  provisions,  and  mounting  our  saddle- 
animals,  struck  off  into  dark,  silent  forest. 

It  was  a  steep  climb  of  eight  or  ten  miles  up  tree- 
covered  ridges  and  among  outcrops  of  gray  trachyte; 
nearly  every  foot  showing  more  or  less  evidence  of 
glacial  action ;  long  trains  of  morainal  rocks  upon  which 
large  forest-trees  seemed  satisfied  to  grow;  great  rough 
regions  of  terminal  rubbish,  with  enclosed  patches  of 
level  earth  commonly  grass -grown  and  picturesque.  It 
was  sunset  before  we  came  uj)on  water,  and  then  it  flowed 
a  thousand  feet  below  us  in  the  bottom  of  a  sharp,  narrow 
canon,  cut  abruptly  down  in  what  seemed  glacial  d4hris. 
I  thought  it  unwise  to  take  our  mules  down  its  steep 
wall  if  there  were  any  camp-spot  high  up  in  the  opener 
head  of  the  canon,  and  went  off  on  foot  to  climb  the 
wooded  moraines  still  farther,  hoping  to  come  upon  a  bit 
of  alpine  sward  with  icy  pool,  or  even  upon  a  spring. 
When  up  between  two  and  three  hundred  feet  the  trees 
became  less  and  less  frequent,  rugged  trains  of  stone  and 
glacier-scored  rock  in  places  covering  the  spurs.  I  could 
now  overlook  the  snow  amphitheatre  which  ojDened  vast 
and  shadowy  above.  Not  a  sign  of  vegetation  enlivened 
its  stony  bed.     The  icy  brook  flowed  between  slopes  of 


SHASTA   FLANKS.  249 

debris.  At  my  feet,  a  trachyte  ridge  narrowed  the  stream 
with  a  tortuous  bed,  and  led  it  to  the  edge  of  a  five  hun- 
dred-feet cliff,  over  which  poured  a  graceful  cascade. 
Finding  no  camp-spot  there,  I  turned  northw^ard  and 
made  a  detour  through  deep  woods,  by-and-by  coming- 
back  to  Clark.  We  faced  the  necessity,  and  by  dark 
were  snugly  camped  in  the  wild  canon  bottom.  It  was 
one  of  the  loneliest  bivouacs  of  my  life.  Shut  in  by 
high,  dark  w^alls,  a  few  clustered  trees  growing  here  and 
there,  others  which  floods  had  undermined  lying  pros- 
trate, rough  boulders  thrown  about,  an  icy  stream  hurry- 
ing by,  and  chilly  winds  coming  down  from  the  height, 
against  which  our  blankets  only  half  defended  us. 

Our  excursion  next  day  was  south  and  west,  across 
high,  scantily  wooded  moraines,  till  we  came  to  the  deep 
canon  of  the  McCloud  glacier. 

I  describe  this  gorge  as  it  is  one  of  several  similar,  all 
peculiar  to  Shasta.  We  had  climbed  to  a  point  about  ten 
thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  and  were  upon  tlie  eastern 
edge  of  a  canon  of  eleven  or  twelve  hundred  feet  depth. 
From  the  very  crest  of  the  Shasta,  with  here  and  there  a 
few  patches  of  snow,  a  long  and  remarkably  even  cUhris 
slope  swept  down.  It  seemed  as  if  these  small  pieces  of 
trachyte  formed  a  great  part  of  the  region,  for  to  the  very 
bottom  our  canon  walls  were  worked  out  of  it.  A  half 
mile  below  us  the  left  bank  was  curiously  eroded  by  side 
streams,  resulting  in  a  family  of  pillars  from  one  to  seven 
hundred  feet  high,  each  capped  with  some  hard  lava 
boulder  which  had  protected  the  soft  debris  beneath 
from  weathering.  From  its  lofty  neve  the  McCloud 
glacier  descended  over  rugged  slopes  in  one  long  cas- 
cade to  a  little  above  our  station,  where  it  impinged 
against  a  great  rock  buttress  and  turned  sharply  from 
the  south  "wall  towards  us,  rounding  over  in  a  great  solid 
11* 


250  MOUNTAINEERING   IN  THE   SIERRA   NEVADA. 

ice-dome  eight  or  nine  hundred  feet  high.  For  a  mile 
farther,  a  huge  accumulation  looking  like  a  river  of 
dehris  cumbered  the  bottom.  Here  and  there,  on  close 
scrutiny,  we  found  it  to  be  pierced  with  caverns  whose 
ice-walls  showed  that  the  glacier  underlaid  all  this  vast 
amount  of  stone.  Boulders  rattled  continually  from  the 
upper  glacier  and  down  both  canon  walls,  increasing  the 
already  great  burden.  Along  both  sides  w^ere  evidences 
of  motion  in  the  lateral  moraine  embankments,  and  a 
very  perceptible  rounding  up  of  terminal  ramparts,  from 
which  in  Avhite  torrent  poured  the  sub-glacial  brook. 

It  is  instructive  to  consider  what  an  amount  of  freight- 
ing labor  this  shrunken  ice-stream  has  to  perform  besides 
dragging  its  OAvn  vast  weight  along.  In  descending 
Shasta  we  had  found  glacial  ice  which  evidently  for  a 
mile  or  more  deeply  underlaid  a  mass  of  rock  similar  to 
this.  It  is  one  of  the  curiosities  of  Mount  Shasta  that 
such  great  bulk  of  ice  should  be  buried,  and  in  large  part 
preserved,  by  loads  of  rock  fragments.  Fine  contrasts  of 
color  were  afforded  high  up  among  the  serac  by  a  com- 
bination of  blue  ice  and  red  lavas.  We  hammered  and 
surveyed  here  for  half  the  day,  then  descended  to  our 
mules,  who  bore  us  eagerly  back  to  their  home,  our  wierd 
little  canon  camp. 

A  pleasant  day's  march,  altogether  in  woods  and  over 
glacial  ridges,  during  which  not  a  half  hour  passed  with- 
out opening  views  of  the  cone,  brought  us  high  on  the 
northern  slope,  at  the  upper  forest  limit,  in  a  region  of 
barren  avalanche  tracks  and  immense  moraines. 

Between  those  great  straight  ridges  wliich  jut  almost 
parallel  from  the  volcano's  base,  are  wide,  shelving  val- 
leys, the  pathways  of  extinct  glaciers ;  and  here  the 
forest,  although  it  must  once  have  obtained  foothold,  has 
been  uprooted   and   swept   away  before  powerful  ava- 


SHASTA  FLANKS.  251 

lanclies,  crushed  and  up -piled  trunks  in  sad  wreck  mark- 
ing spots  where  the  snow-rush  stopped. 

Two  brooks,  separated  by  a  wide,  gently  rounding  zone 
of  drift,  flowed  down  through  the  glacier  valley  which 
opened  directly  in  front  of  our  camp. 

Early  next  morning  Clark  and  I  made  up  a  bag  of 
lunch,  shouldered  our  instruments,  and  set  out  for  a  day 
on  the  glacier.  Our  slow,  laborious  ascent  of  the  valley 
was  not  altogether  uninteresting.  Constant  views  ob- 
tained of  moraines  on  either  side  gave  us  much  pleasure 
and  study.  It  was  instructive  to  observe  that  the  bases 
of  their  structure  were  solid  floors  of  lava,  upon  which, 
in  rude  though  secure  masonry,  were  piled  embankments 
not  less  than  half  a  mile  wide  and  four  hundred  feet 
high.  Among  the  huge  rocks  which  formed  the  upper 
structure,  the  tree-forms  were  peculiar.  Apparently  every 
tree  had  made  an  effort  to  fill  some  gap  and  round  out 
the  smooth  general  surface.  ISTo  matter  how  dee^Dly  twisted 
between  high  boulders,  the  branches  spread  themselves 
out  in  a  continuous,  dense  mat,  stretching  from  stone  to 
stone.  It  was  only  rarely,  and  in  the  less  elevated  parts 
of  the  moraine,  that  we  could  see  a  trunk.  The  whole 
effect  was  of  a  causeway  of  rock  overgrown  by  some 
dense  green  vine. 

Similar  patches  of  stunted  trees  grew  here  and  there 
over  the  bottom  of  our  broad  amphitheatre.  Oftentimes 
we  threaded  our  way  among  dense  thickets  of  pines, 
never  over  six  or  eight  feet  in  height,  having  trunks 
often  two  and  three  feet  in  diameter,  and  more  than  once 
we  walked  over  their  tops,  our  feet  sinking  but  two  or 
three  inches  into  the  dense  mat  of  foliage.  Here  and 
there,  half  buried  in  the  drift,  we  came  across  the  tall, 
noble  trunks  of  avalanche-killed  trees.  In  comparing 
their  straight,  symmetrical  growth  with  the  singularly 


252  MOUNTAINEERING   IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

matted  condition  of  the  living  dwarfed  trees,  I  find  the 
indication  of  a  great  climatic  change.  Not  only  are  the 
present  avalanches  too  great  to  permit  their  growth,  but  the 
violent  cold  winds  which  drift  over  this  region  bend  down 
the  young  trees  to  such  an  extent  that  there  are  no  longer 
tall,  normal  specimens.  Around  the  upper  limits  of 
arborescent  vegetation  we  passed  some  most,  enchanting 
spots  ;  groves,  not  over  eight  feet  in  height,  of  large  trees 
whose  w^hite  trunks-  and  interwoven  boughs  formed  a 
colonnade,  over  which  stretched  thick  living  thatch. 
Under  these  strange  galleries  we  walked  upon  soft, 
velvety  turf  and  an  elastic  cushion  of  pine-needles ;  nor 
could  we  resist  the  temptation  of  lying  down  here  to 
rest  beneath  the  dense  roof  As  we  looked  back,  charm- 
ing little  vistas .  opened  betw^een  the  old  and  dwarfed 
stems.  In  one  direction  we  could  see  the  moraine  with 
its  long,  graded  slope  and  variegated  green  and  brown 
surface  ;  in  another,  the  open  pathway  of  the  old  glacier 
worn  deeper  and  deeper  between  lofty  forest-clad  spurs  ; 
and  up  to  the  great  snow  mass  above  us,  with  its  slender 
peak  in  the  heavens  looking  down  upon  magnificent 
sweep  of  neve. 

Only  the  strong  desire  for  glaciers  led  us  away  from 
these  delightful  groves.  A  short  tramp  over  sand  and 
boulders  brought  us  to  the  foot  of  a  broad,  irregular,  ter-' 
minal  moraine.  Two  or  three  milky  cascades  poured  out 
from  under  the  great  boulder  region  and  united  to  form 
two  important  streams.  We  followed  one  of  these  in  our 
climb  up  the  moraine,  and  after  an  hour's  hard  work, 
found  ourselves  upon  an  immense  pile  of  lava  blocks, 
from  which  we  could  overlook  the  whole. 

In  irregular  curve  it  continues  not  less  than  three 
miles  around  the  end  of  the  glacier,  and  in  no  place  that 
I  saw  was  less  than  a  half  mile  in  width.    Where  we  had 


SHASTA   FLANKS.  253 

attacked  it  the  width  cannot  be  less  than  a  mile,  and  the 
portion  over  which  we  had  climbed  must  reach  a  thick- 
ness of  five  or  six  hundred  feet. 

About  a  half  mile  above  us,  though  but  little  lifted 
from  our  level,  undulating  hillocks  of  ice  marked  the 
division  between  glacier  and  moraine ;  above  that,  it 
stretched  in  uninterrupted  white  fields.  The  moraine 
in  every  direction  extended  in  singularly  abrupt  hills, 
separated  by  deep,  irregular  pits  and  basins  of  a  hundred 
and  more  feet  deep. 

As  we  climbed  on  the  footing  became  more  and  more 
insecure,  piles  of  rock  giving  way  under  our  weight. 
Before  long  we  came  to  a  region  of  circular,  funnel- 
shaped  craters,  where  evidently  the  underlying  glacier 
had  melted  out  and  a  whole  freight  of  boulders  fallen  in 
with  a  rush.  Around  the  edges  of  these  horrible  traps 
we  threaded  our  way  with  extreme  caution,  now  and 
then  a  boulder,  dislodging  under  our  feet,  rolled  down 
into  these  pits,  and  many  tons  would  settle  out  of  sight. 
Altogether  it  was  the  most  dangerous  kind  of  climbing  I 
have  ever  seen.  You  were  never  sure  of  your  foothold. 
More  than  once,  when  crossing  a  comparatively  smooth, 
level  boulder-field,  they  began  to  sink  under  us,  and  we 
sprang  on  from  stone  to  stone  while  the  great  mass  caved 
and  sank  slowly  behind  us.  At  times,  while  making  our 
way  over  solid  seeming  stretches,  the  sound  of  a  deep, 
sub-glacial  stream  flowing  far  beneath  us  came  up  faint 
and  muffled  through  the  chinks  of  the  rock.  This  sort 
of  music  is  not  encouraging  to  the  nerves.  To  the  siren 
babble  of  mountain  brook  is  added  all  the  tragic  nearness 
of  death. " 

We  looked  far  and  wide  in  hope  of  some  solid  region 
which  should  lead  us  up  to  the  ice,  but  it  was  all  alike, 
and  we  hurried  on,  the  rocks  settling  and  sinking  beneath 


254  MOUNTAINEERING  IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

our  tread,  -until  we  made  our  way  to  its  edge,  and  climbed 
with  relief  upon  its  hard,  white  surface.  After  we  had 
gained  the  height  of  an  hundred  feet,  climbing  up  a 
comparatively  smooth  slope  between  brooks  which  flowed 
over  it,  a  look  back  gave  a  more  correct  idea  of  the 
general  billowy  character  of  our  moraine ;  and  here  and 
there  in  its  deeper  indentations  we  could  detect  the  un- 
derlying ice. 

It  is,  then,  here  as  upon  the  McCloud  glacier.  For  at 
least  a  mile's  width  the  whole  lower  zone  is  buried  under 
accumulation  of  morainal  matter.  Instead  of  ending  like 
most  Swiss  glaciers,  this  ice  wastes  chiefly  in  contact  with 
the  ground,  and  when  considerable  caverns  are  formed 
the  overlying  moraine  crushes  its  way  through  the  rotten 
roof,  making  the  funnels  we  had  seen. 

Thankful  that  we  had  not  assisted  at  one  of  these 
engulfments,  we  scrambled  on  up  the  smooth,  roof-like 
slope,  steadying  our  ascent  by  the  tripod  legs  used  as 
alpine  stock.  When  we  had  climbed  perhaps  a  thou- 
sand feet  the  surface  angle  became  somewhat  gentler, 
and  we  were  able  to  overlook  before  us  the  whole  broad 
incline  up  to  the  very  peak.  For  a  mile  or  a  mile  and 
a  half,  the  sharp  blue  edges  of  crevasses  were  apparent 
here  and  there  yawning  widely  for  the  length  of  a  thou- 
sand feet,  and  at  other  places  intersecting  each  other 
confusedly,  resulting  in  piled-up  masses  of  shattered 
ice. 

We  were  charmed  to  enter  this  wild  region,  and  hur- 
ried to  the  edge  of  an  immense  chasm.  It  could  hardly 
have  been  less  than  a  thousand  or  twelve  hundred  feet  in 
length.  The  solid  white  wall  of  the  opposite  side  — 
sixty  feet  over  —  fell  smooth  and  vertical  for  a  hundred 
feet  or  more,  where  rough  wedged  blocks  and  bridges  of 
clear  blue  ice  stretched  from  wall  to  waU.     From  these 


SHASTA   FLANKS.  255 

and  from  numerous  overhanging  shelves  hung  the  long 
crystal  threads  of  icicles,  and  beyond,  dark  and  impene- 
trable, opened  ice-caverns  of  unknown  limit.  "We  cau- 
tiously walked  along  this  brink,  examining  with  deep 
interest  all  the  lines  of  stratification  and  veining,  and  the 
strange  succession  of  views  down  into  the  fractured 
regions  below. 

I  had  the  greatest  desire  to  be  let  down  with  a  rope 
and  make  my  way  among  these  pillars  and  bridges  of  ice, 
but  our  little  twenty  feet  of  slender  rope  forbade  the 
attempt.  Farther  up,  the  crevasses  walled  us  about  more 
and  more.  At  last  we  got  into  a  region  where  they  cut 
into  one  another,  breaking  the  whole  glacier  body  into  a 
confused  pile  of  ice  blocks.  Here  we  had  great  difficulty 
in  seeing  our  way  for  more  than  a  very  few  feet,  and 
were  constantly  obliged  to  climb  to  the  top  of  some 
dangerous  block  to  get  an  outlook,  and  before  long, 
instead  of  a  plain  with  here  and  there  a  crevasse,  we 
were  in  a  mass  of  crevasses  separated  only  by  thin  and 
dangerous  blades  of  ice. 

We  still  pushed  on,  tied  together  with  our  short  line, 
jumping  over  pits  and  chasms,  holding  our  breath  over 
slender  snow-ridges,  and  beginning  to  think  the  work 
serious.  We  climbed  an  ice-crag  together ;  all  around 
rose  strange,  shar^D  forms ;  below,  in  every  direction, 
yawned  narrow  cuts,  caves  trimmed  with  long  stalactites 
of  ice,  walls  ornamented  w^ith  crystal  pilasters,  and  dark- 
blue  grottoes  opening  down  into  deeper  and  more  gloomy 
chambers,  as  silent  and  cold  as  graves. 

Far  above  the  summit  rose  white  and  symmetrical,  its 
sky-line  sweeping  down  sharp  against  the  blue.  Below, 
over  ice- wreck  and  frozen  waves,  opened  the  deep  valley 
of  camp,  leading  our  vision  down  to  distant  forest  slopes. 

We  were  in  the  middle  of  a  vast  convex  glacier  surface 


256  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

which  embraced  the  curve  of  Shasta  for  four  miles  around, 
and  at  least  five  on  the  slope  line,  ice  stretching  in  every 
direction  and  actually  bounding  the  view  on  all  sides 
except  where  we  looked  down. 

The  idea  of  a  mountain  glacier  formed  from  Swiss  or 
Indian  views  is  always  of  a  stream  of  ice  walled  in  by 
more  or  less  lofty  ridges.  Here  a  great  curved  cover  of 
ice  flows  down  the  conical  surface  of  a  volcano  without 
lateral  walls,  a  few  lava  pinnacles  and  inconspicuous  piles 
of  debris  separating  it  from  the  next  glacier,  but  they 
were  unseen  from  our  point.  Sharp  white  profiles  met 
the  sky.  It  became  evident  we  could  go  no  farther  in 
the  old  direction,  and  we  at  once  set  about  retracing  our 
steps,  but  in  the  labyrinth  soon  lost  the  barely  discernible 
tracks  and  never  refound  them.  Whichever  way  we 
turned  impassable  gulfs  opened  before  us,  but  just  a 
little  way  to  the  right  or  left  it  seemed  safe  and  trav- 
ersable. At  last  I  got  provoked  at  the  ill-luck,  and  sug- 
gested to  Clark  that  we  might  with  advantage  take  a 
brief  intermission  for  lunch,  feeling  that  a  lately  quieted 
stomach  is  the  best  defence  for  nerves.  So  when  we 
got  into  a  pleasant,  open  spot  where  the  glacier  be- 
came for  a  little  way  smooth  and  level,  we  sat  down, 
leisurely  enjoying  our  repast.  We  saw  a  possible  way 
out  of  our  difficulty,  and  sat  some  time  chatting  pleas- 
antly. When  there  was  no  more  lunch  we  started 
again,  and  only  three  steps  away  came  upon  a  narrow 
crack  edged  by  sharp  ice-jaws.  There  was  something 
noticeable  in  the  hollow,  bottomless  darkness  seen 
through  it  which  arrested  us,  and  when  we  had 
jumped  across  to  the  other  side,  both  knelt  and 
looked  into  its  depths.  We  saw  a  large  domed  grotto 
walled  in  with  shattered  ice  and  arched  over  by  a 
roof  of  frozen  snow  so  thin  that  the  light  came  through 


SHASTA   FLANKS.  257 

quite  easily.  The  middle  of  this  dome  overhung  a  ter- 
rible abyss.  A  block  of  ice  thrown  in  fell  from  ledge  to 
ledge,  echoing  back  its  stroke  fainter  and  fainter.  We 
had  unconsciously  sat  for  twenty  minutes  lunching  and 
laughing  on  the  thin  roof,  with  only  a  few  inches  of 
frozen  snow  to  hold  us  up  over  that  still,  deep  grave.  A 
noonday  sun  rapidly  melting  its  surface,  the  warmth  of 
our  persons  slowly  thawing  it,  and  both  of  us  playfully 
drumming  the  frail  crest  with  our  tripod  legs.  We  looked 
at  one  another,  and  agreed  that  we  lost  confidence  in 
glaciers. 

Splendid  rifts  now  opened  to  north  of  us,  with  slant 
sunshine  lighting  up  one  side  in  vivid  contrast  with  the 
cold,  shadowed  wall.  We  greatly  enjoyed  a  tall  preci- 
pice with  a  gaping  crevasse  at  its  base,  and  found  real 
pleasure  in  the  north  edge  of  the  great  ice-field,  whither 
we  now  turned.  A  low  moraine,  with  here  and  there 
a  mass  of  rock  which  might  be  solid,  flanked  the  glacier, 
but  was  separated  from  it  by  a  deeply  melted  crevasse, 
opening  irregular  caverns  along  the  wall  down  under 
the  very  glacier  body.  We  were  some  time  searching  a 
point  where  this  gulf  might  be  safely  crossed.  A  thin 
tongue  of  ice,  sharpened  by  melting  to  a  mere  blade, 
jutted  from  the  solid  glacier  over  to  the  moraine,  offering 
us  a  passage  of  some  danger  and  much  interest.  AVe 
edged  our  way  along  astride  its  crest,  until  a  good  spring 
carried  us  over  a  final  crevasse  and  up  upon  the  moraine, 
which  we  found  to  be  dangerously  built  up  of  honey- 
combed ice  and  boulders.  The  same  perilous  sinks  and 
holes  surrounded  us,  and  alternated  with  hollow  arch- 
ways over  subterranean  streams.  It  was  a  relief,  after 
an  hour's  labor,  to  find  ourselves  on  solid  lava,  although 
the  ridge,  which  proved  to  be  a  chain  of  old  craters, 
was  one  of  the  most  dreary  reaches  I  have  ever  seen. 


258  MOUNTAINEEEING  IN  THE   &IERRA  NEVADA. 

In  tlie  evidence  of  glacier  motion  there  had  seemed  a 
form  of  life,  but  here  among  silent,  rigid  crater  rims  and 
stark  fields  of  volcanic  sand,  we  walked  upon  ground 
lifeless  and  lonely  beyond  description  :  a  frozen  desert  at 
nine  thousand  feet  altitude.  Among  the  huge  rude  forms 
of  lava  we  tramped  along,  happy  when  the  tracks  of 
mountain  sheep  suggested  former  explorers,  and  pleased 
if  a  snowbank  under  rock  shadow  gave  birth  to  spring 
or  pool.  But  the  severe  impression  of  arctic  dreariness 
passed  off  when,  reaching  a  rim,  we  looked  over  and 
down  upon  the  volcano's  north  foot,  a  superb  sweep  of 
forest  country  waved  with  ridgy  flow  of  lava  and  grace- 
fully curved  moraines. 

Afar  off,  the  wide  sunny  Shasta  Valley,  dotted  with 
miniature  volcanoes,  and  checked  with  the  yellow  and 
green  of  grain  and  garden,  spread  pleasantly  away  to  the 
north,  bounded  by  Klamath  hills  and  horizoned  by  the 
blue  rank  of  Siskiyon  Mountains.  To  our  left  the  cone 
slope  stretched  away  to  Sisson's,  the  sharp  form  of  the 
Black  Cone  rising  in  the  gap  between  Shasta  and  Scott 
Mountain. 

Here  ao-ain  the  tremendous  contrast  between  lava  and 

o 

ice  about  us,  and  that  lowly  expanse  of  ranches  and  ver- 
dure impressed  anew  its  peculiar  force. 

We  tramped  on  along  the  glacier  edge,  over  rough 
ridges  and  slopes  of  old  moraine,  rounding  at  last  the  ice 
terminus,  and  crossing  the  valley  to  camp,  where  our 
three  mules  welcomed  us  with  friendly  discord. 

A  day's  march  over  forest-covered  moraines  and  through 
open  glades  brought  us  to  the  main  camp  at  Sheep  Eock, 
uniting  us  with  our  friends.  The  heavier  air  of  this  lower 
level  soothed  us  into  a  pleasant  laziness  which  lasted  over 
Sunday,  resting  our  strained  muscles  and  opening  the 
heart  anew  to  human  and  sacred  influence.     If  we  are 


SHASTA   FLANKS.  259 

sometimes  at  pain  when  realizing  within  what  narrow 
range  of  latitude  mankind  reaches  finer  development, 
how  short  a  step  it  is  from  tropical  absence  of  spiritual 
life  to  dull  boreal  stupidity,  it  is  added  humiliation  to 
experience  our  marked  limitation  in  altitude.  At  four- 
teen thousand  feet,  little  is  left  me  but  bodily  aj)petite 
and  impression  of  sense.  The  habit  of  scientific  ob- 
servation, which  in  time  becomes  one  of  the  involun- 
tary processes,  goes  on  as  do  heart-beat  and  breathing ;  a 
certain  general  awe  overshadows  the  mind ;  but  on  de- 
scending again  to  lowlands,  one  after  another  the  whole 
riches  of  the  human  organization  come  back  with  de- 
licious freshness.  Something  of  this  must  account  for 
my  delight  in  finding  the  family  of  Preuxtemps  (a  half- 
Cherokee  mountaineer  known  hereabouts  as  Pro-tem) 
camped  near  us.  Protem  was  a  barbarian  by  choice,  and 
united  all  the  wilder  instincts  with  a  domestic  passion 
worthy  his  Caucasian  ancestor,  and  quite  charming  in  its 
childlike  manifestation. 

Protem  7riere,  an  obese  Digger  squaw,  so  evidently 
avoided  us  that  I  respected  her  feelings  and  never  once 
visited  their  bivouac,  although  the  flutter  of  gaudy  rags 
and  that  picturesque  squalor  of  which  she  and  the  camp- 
fire  were  centre  and  soul,  sorely  tempted  me. 

The  old  man  and  his  four  little  barefoot  girls,  if  not 
actually  familiar  were  more  than  sociable,  and  spent 
much  time  with  tjs.  The  elder  three,  ranging  from  eight 
to  twelve,  were  shy  and  timid  as  little  quails,  dodging 
about  and  scampering  off  to  some  hiding-place  when  I 
strove  to  introduce  myself  through  the  medium  of  such 
massive  sweet-cakes  as  our  AYilliam  produced.  ]N'ot  so 
the  little  six-year  old  Clarissa,  who  in  all  frankness  met 
my  advances  and  repaid  me  for  the  cookies  she  silently 
devoured  by  gentlest  and  most  fascinating  smiles. 


260  MOUNTAIXEEEIXG   IN   THE    SIERRA   KEYADA. 

A  stained  and  eartli-liued  flour-sack  rudely  gathered 
into  a  band  was  her  skirt,  and  confined  the  little,  long- 
sleeved,  pink  calico  sack.  From  out  a  voluminous  sun-" 
bonnet  mtli  long  cape  shone  the  chubby  face  of  my  little 
friend.  For  all  she  was  so  young  and  charmingly  small, 
Clarissa  was  woman  rather  than  child.  She  took  entire 
care  of  herself,  and  prowled  about  in  a  self-contained 
way,  making  studies  and  observations  with  ludicrous 
gravity.  Early  mornings  she  came  with  slow  matronly 
gait  down  to  the  horse-trough,  and  rolUng  up  her  sleeves^ 
laid  aside  the  huge  sun-bonnet,  washed  her  face  and 
hands,  wiping  them  on  her  petticoat,  and  arranged  her 
jetty  Indian  hair  with  the  quiet  unconsciousness  of  fifty 
years. 

Her  good-morning  nod,  with  the  reserved  yet  affection- 
ate smile,  put  me  in  happiness  for  the  day,  and  when  as 
I  strolled  about  she  overtook  me  and  placed  her  little 
hand  in  mine,  looking  up  with  fearless,  quiet  confidence, 
I  measured  step  with  her,  and  we  held  sweet  chats  about 
squirrels  and  field-mice.  But  I  thought  her  most  charm- 
ing when  she  brought  her  father  down  to  our  camp-fire 
after  supper,  and,  alternately  on  his  knee  or  mine,  list- 
ened to  our  stories  and  wound  a  soft  little  arm  about 
my  neck.  The  twilight  passed  agreeably  thus,  Clarissa 
gradually  paying  less  and  less  attention  to  our  yarns,  till 
she  pulled  the  skirts  of  my  cavalry  coat  over  her,  and 
curling  up  on  my  lap  laid  her  de&r  little  head  on 
my  breast,  smiled,  gaped,  rubbed  with  plump  knuckles 
the  blinking  eyes,  dozed,  and  at  last  sank  into  a  deep 
sleep. 

I  can  even  now  see  old  Protem  draw  an  exj^lanatory 
map  on  the  ground  his  moccasin  had  smoothed,  and  go 
on  with  his  story  of  bear  fight  or  wolf  trap,  illustrating 
by  singularly  apt  gesture  every  trait  and  motion  of  the 


SHASTA   FLANKS.  261 

animal  he  described,  while  firelight  warmed  the  brown, 
skin  and  ruddy  cheek  of  my  little  charge  and  flickered  on 
her  soft  black  hair. 

The  last  bear  story  of  an  evening  being  ended,  Protem 
took  from  me  Clarissa,  whose  single  yawn  and  pretty 
bewilderment  subsided  in  a  second,  leaving  her  sound 
asleep  on  the  bucksldn  shoulder  of  her  father. 

About  half  way  between  Sheep  Eock  and  the  snow- 
line extensive  eruptions  of  basalt  have  occurred,  deluging 
the  lower  slopes,  and  flowing  in  gently  inclined  fields  and 
streams  down  through  Shasta  Valley  for  many  miles. 
The  surface  of  this  basalt  country  is  singularly  diversi- 
fied. Eising  above  its  general  level  are  numerous  domes, 
some  of  them  smoothly  arched  over  with  rock,  others 
perforated  at  the  top,  and  more  broken  in  circular  para- 
pets. The  origin  of  these  singular  blisters  is  probably 
simple.  Overflowing  former  trachyte  fields  the  basalt 
swept  down,  covering  a  series  of  pools  and  brooks.  The 
w^ater  converted  into  steam  blew  up  the  viscous  rock  in 
such  forms  as  we  find.  Here  and  there  the  basalt  sur- 
face opens  in  circular  orifices,  into  which  you  may  look 
a  hundred  feet  or  more. 

In  1863,  in  company  with  Professor  Brewer,  I  visited 
this  very  region,  and  we  were  then  shown  an  interesting 
tubular  cavern  lying  directly  under  the  surface  of  a  lava 
plain. 

Mr.  Palmer  and  I  revisited  the  spot,  and,  having  tied  our 
mules,  descended  through  a  circular  hole  to  the  cavern's 
mouth.  An  archway  of  black  lava  sixty  feet  wide  by 
eighty  high,  with  a  floor  of  lava  sand  and  rough  boulders, 
led  under  the  basalt  in  a  northerly  direction,  preserving 
an  incline  not  more  than  the  gentle  slope  of  the  country. 
Our  roof  overhead  could  hardly  have  been  more  than 
twenty  or  thirty  feet  thick.     We  followed  the  cavern. 


262  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIEREA  NEVADA. 

which  was  a  comparatively  regular  tube,  for  half  or  three- 
quarters  of  a  mile.  Now  and  then  the  roof  would  open 
up  in  larger  chambers,  and  the  floor  be  cumbered  with 
huge  piles  of  lava,  over  which  we  scrambled,  sometimes 
nearly  reaching  the  ceiling.  Fresh  lava-froth  and  smooth 
blister-holes  lined  the  sides.  Innumerable  bats  and  owls 
on  silent  wing  floated  by  our  candles,  fanning  an  air 
singularly  still  and  dense. 

After  a  cautious  scramble  over  a  long  pile  of  immense 
basalt  blocks,  we  came  to  the  end  of  the  cave,  and  sat 
down  upon  piles  of  debris.  We  then  repeated  an  experi- 
ment, formerly  made  by  Brewer  and  myself,  of  blowing 
out  our  candle  to  observe  the  intense  darkness,  then 
firing  a  pistol  that  we  might  hear  its  dull,  muflSed 
explosion. 

The  formation  of  this  cave,  as  explained  in  Professor 
Whitney's  Geological  Eeport,  is  this  :  A  basalt  stream, 
flowing  down  from  Shasta,  cooled  and  hardened  upon  the 
surface,  while  within  the  mass  remained  molten  and  fluid. 
From  simple  pressure  the  lava  burst  out  at  the  lower  end, 
and  flowing  forth  left  an  empty  tube.  Wonderfully  fresh 
and  recent  the  whole  confused  rock-walls  appeared,  and 
we  felt,  as  we  walked  and  ■  climbed  back  to  the  opening 
and  to  daylight,  as  if  we  had  been  allowed  to  travel  back 
into  the  volcano  ao'e. 

o 

One  more  view  of  Shasta,  obtained  a  few  days  later 
from  Well's  ranch  on  the  Yreka  road,  seems  worthy  of 
mention.  From  here  the  cone  and  side  crater  are  in 
line,  making  a  single  symmetrical  form  with  broad 
broken  summit  singularly  like  Cotopaxi. 

You  look  over  green  meadows  and  cultivated  fields  ; 
beyond  is  a  chain  of  little  volcanoes  girdling  Shasta's 
foot,  for  the  most  part  bare  and  yellow,  but  clouded  in 
places  with  dark  forest,  which  a  little  farther  up  mantles 


SHASTA  FLANKS.  263 

the  broad  grand   cone,  and  sweeps  up  over  ridge  and 
canon  to  alpine  heights  of  rock  and  ice. 

Strange  and  splendid  is  the  evening  effect  from  here, 
when  shadow  over  base  and  light  npon  summit  divide 
the  vast  pile  .into  two  zones  of  blue-purple  and  red-gold. 
We  watched  the  colors  fade  and  the  peak  recede  farther 
and  dimmer  among  darkness  and  stars. 


264  MOUNTAINEERING  IN   THE   SIEERA  NEVADA, 


XIII. 

MOUNT   WHITOTIY. 

There  lay  between  Carson  and  Mount  Whitney  a  ride 
of  tAvo  hundred  and  eighty  miles  along  the  east  base  of 
the  Sierra.  Stage-driving,  like  other  exact  professions, 
gathers  among  its  followers  certain  types  of  men  and 
manners,  either  by  some  mode  of  natural  selection  or  else 
after  a  Darwinian  way  developing  one  set  of  traits  to  the 
exclusion  of  others.  However  interesting  it  might  be 
to  investigate  the  moulding  power  of  whip  and  reins, 
or  to  discover  what  measure  of  coachman  there  is  latent 
in  every  one  of  us,  it  cannot  be  questioned  that  the 
characters  of  drivers  do  resemble  one  another  in  sur- 
prising degree.  That  ostentatious  silence  and  self-con- 
tained way  of  ignoring  one's  presence  on  the  box  for  the 
first  half  hour,  the  tragi-comic,  just  audible  undertone  in 
which  they  remonstrate  with  the  swing  team,  and  such 
single  refrain  of  obsolete  song  as  they  drone  and  drone  a 
hundred  times,  may  be  observed  on  every  coach  from  San 
Diego  to  Montana. 

So  I  found  it  natural  enough  that  the  driver,  my  sole 
companion  from  Carson  to  Aurora,  should  sit  for  the  first 
hour  in  a  silence,  etiquette  forbade  me  to  violate.  His 
team,  by  strict  attention  to  their  duties,  must  have  left 
his  mind  quite  free,  and  I  saw  symptoms  of  suppressed 
sociability  within  forty  minutes  of  our  departure. 

The  nine-mile  house,  if  my  memory  serves,  was  his 
landmark  for  taciturnity,  for  soon  after  passing  it  he  be- 


MOUNT  WHITNEY.  265 

gan  to  skirmish  along  a  sort  of  picket  line  of  conversation. 
To  the  wheel  mares  he  remarked,  '•'  hot,  gals  ;  ain't  it  tho'  ? " 
and  to  his  off  leader,  who  strained  wild  eyes  in  every  di- 
rection for  something  to  become  excited  about,  "  look  at 
him  Dixie,  would  n't  you  like  a  rabbit  to  shy  at  ?  " 

With  a  true  driver's  pride  in  reading  men,  he  scanned 
me  from  boots  to  barometer,  and  at  last,  to  my  immense 
delight,  said,  with  the  air  of  throwing  his  hat  into  a  ring, 
"  What  mountain  was  you  going  down  to  measure  ? " 
Had  he  inquired  after  my  grandfather  by  his  first  name, 
I  could  not  have  been  more  surprised.  At  once  I  told 
him  the  plain  truth,  and  waited  for  further  developments  ; 
but  like  an  indifferent  shot  who  drives  centres  on  a  first 
trial  he  proposed  not  to  endanger  his  reputation  for  infal- 
libility by  other  ventures,  and  withdrew  again  to  that 
conspicuous  stupidity  which  coachmen  and  Buddhists 
alike  delight  in. 

Left  to  myself,  I  spent  hours  in  looking  out  over  the 
desert  and  up  along  ihat  bold  front  of  Sierra  which  rose 
on  our  right  from  the  sage  plains  of  Carson  Valley  up 
through  ramparts  of  pine  land  to  summits  of  rock  and 
ravines  with  sunken  snow-banks. 

So  far  as  Aurora,  I  remember  little  worth  describing. 
Sierras,  or  outlying  volcanic  foot  hills,  bound  the  w^est. 
About  our  road  are  desert  plains  and  rolling  sage-clad 
hills,  fresh  light  olive  at  this  June  season,  and  softly  slop- 
ing in  long  glacis  down  to  wide  impressive  levels. 

Green  valleys  and  cultivated  farms  margin  the  Carson 
and  Walker  rivers.  Sierras  are  not  lofty  enough  to  be 
grand,  desert  too  gentle  and  overspread  with  sage  to  be 
terrible ;  yet  the  pale  high  key  of  all  it's  colors,  and  sin- 
gular aerial,  brilliancy  lend  an  otherwise  dreary  enough 
picture  the  charm,  —  as  I  once  before  said,  —  of  water- 
color  drawings.     There  is  no  perspective  under  this  fierce 

12 


2G6  MOUNTAINEERING   IN    THE   SIERRA   NEVADA. 

white  light ;  in  midday,  intensely  sharp  reflections  glare 
from  hill  and  valley,  except  where  the  shadow  of  passing 
cloud  spreads  cool  and  blue  over  olive  slo]3es. 

Alas  for  Aurora  once  so  active  and  bustling  with  silver 
mines  and  its  almost  daily  murder.  Twenty-six  whiskey 
hells  and  two  Vigilance  Committees  graced  those  days  of 
prosperity  and  mirthful  gallows,  of  stock-board  and  the 
gay  delirium  of  speculation.  Now  her  sad  streets  are 
lined  with  closed  doors ;  a  painful  silence  broods  over 
quartz  mills,  and  through  the  whole  deserted  town  one 
perceives  that  melancholy  security  of  human  life  which 
is  hereabouts  one  of  the  pathetic  symptoms  of  bankruptcy. 
The  "  boys  "  have  gone  off  to  merrily  shoot  one  another 
somewhere  else,  leaving  poor  Aurora  in  the  hands  of  a 
sort  of  coroner's  jury  who  gather  nightly  at  the  one  saloon 
and  hold  dreary  inquests  over  departed  enterprise. 

My  landlord's  tread  echoed  through  a  large  empty  hotel, 
and  when  I  responded  to  his  call  for  lunch  the  silentest 
of  girls  became  medium  between  me  and  a  Chinaman 
who  gazed  sad-eyed  through  his  kitchen  door  as  in  pity  for 
one  who  must  choose  between  starving  and  his  own  cook- 
ery. But  I  have  always  felt  it  unpardonable  egotism  for 
a  traveller  to  force  the  reader  into  sharing  with  him  the 
inevitable  miseries  of  roadside  food.  Whatever  merit 
there  may  be  in  locking  this  prandial  grief  fast  from 
public  view,  I  feel  myself  entitled  to  in  a  high  degree, 
for  I  hold  it  in  my  power  to  describe  the  most  revolting 
cuisine  on  the  planet,  yet  refrain. 

From  Aurora  my  road,  still  parallel  with  the  moun- 
tains though  now  hidden  from  them  by  banks  of  volcanic 
hills,  climbed  a  long  wearisome  slope  from  whose  summit 
a  glorious  panorama  of  snowy  Sierras  lay  before  us. 
From  our  feet,  steep  declivities  sloped  two  thousand  feet 
to  the  level  of  a  wide  desert  basin,  bounded  upon  the  west 


MOUNT   WHITNEY.  267 

by  long  ranks  of  liigli  white  peaks,  and  otherwise  walled 
in  by  chains  of  volcanic  hills,  smooth  with  dull  sage  flanks, 
and  yet  varied  here  and  there  by  out-cropping  formations 
of  eruptive  rocks  and  dusky  cedar  forests. 

Just  at  the  Sierra  foot,  surrounded  by  bare  gray  vol- 
canoes and  reaches  of  ashen  plain,  lies  Mono  lake,  a  broad 
oval  darkened  along  its  farther  shore  by  reflecting  the 
shadowed  mountains,  and  pale  tranquil  blue  where  among 
light  desert  levels  it  mirrors  the  silken  softness  of  sky 
and  cloud.  Flocks  of  pelicans,  high  against  the  sky, 
floated  in  slow  wheeling  flight,  reflecting  the  sun  from 
white  wings,  and  turning,  were  lost  in  the  blue  to  gleam 
out  again  like  flakes  of  snow. 

The  eye  ranges  over  strange  forbidding  hill-forms  and 
leagues  of  desert,  from  which  no  familiarity  can  ever 
banish  suggestions  of  death.  Traced  along  boundary  hills, 
straight  terraces  of  an  ancient  beach  indicate  former 
water-levels,  and  afar  in  the  Sierra,  great  empty  gorges, 
glacier-burnished  and  moraine-flanked,  lead  up  to  amphi- 
theatres of  rock  once  white  with  neve. 

I  recognized  the  old  familiar  summits :  Mount  Eitter, 
Lyell,  Dana,  and  that  firm  peak  with  titan  strength  and 
brow  so  square  and  solid,  it  seems  altogether  natural  we 
should  have  named  it  for  California's  statesman,  John 
Conness. 

We  rumbled  down  hill  and  out  upon  the  desert,  plod- 
ding until  evening  through  sand,  and  over  rocky,  cedar- 
wooded  spurs,  at  last  crossing  adobe  meadows,  where 
were  settlements  and  a  herd  of  Spanish  cattle  which  had 
escaped  the  drought  of  California,  and  now  marched, 
northward  bound,  for  Montana. 

Frowning  volcanic  hills  flanked  our  road  as  evening 
wore  on,  lifting  dark  forms  against  a  sky  singularly  pale 
and  luminous.     Afar,  we  caught  glimpses  of  the  dark 


268  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA:" 

swelling  Sierra  wave  thrusting  up  "star-neighboring 
peaks/'  and  then  descending  into  hollows  among  lava 
mounds,  found  ourselves  shut  completely  in.  A  night  at 
the  Hot  Springs  of  Partzwick  was  notably  free  from  any- 
thing which  may  be  recounted. 

Morning  found  me  waiting  alone  on  the  hotel  veranda, 
and  I  suppose  the  luxuries  of  the  establishment  must 
have  left  a  stamp  of  melancholy  upon  my  face,  for  the 
little  solemn  driver  who  drew  up  his  vehicle  at  the  door 
said  in  a  tone  of  condolence,  "  the  hearse  is  ready." 

Stages,  drivers  and  teams  had  been  successively  worse 
as  I  journeyed  southward.  This  little  old  specimen,  by 
whose  side  I  sat  from  Partzwick  to  Independence,  ought 
to  be  excepted,  and  I  should  neglect  a  duty  were  I  not  to 
portray  one,  at  least,  of  his  traits.  He  was  a  musical  old 
fellow,  and  given  to  chanting  in  low  tones  songs,  some- 
times pathetic,  often  sentimental,' but  in  every  case  pre- 
served by  him  in  most  fragmentary  recollection.  Such 
singing  suffered,  too,  from  the  necessary  and  frequent  in- 
terruption of  driving ;  the  same  breath  quavering  in 
cracked  melody,  and  tossing  some  neatly  rounded  oath 
or  horse-phrase  at  off  or  near  wheeler,  catching  up  an 
end  of  the  refrain  again  in  time  to  satisfy  his  musical 
requirements. 

All  the  morning  he  had  warned  me  most  impressively 
to  count  myself  favored  if  a  certain  bridge  over  Bishop's 
Creek  should  not  sink  under  us  and  cast  me  upon  wild 
waters.  Eightly  estimating  my  friend,  I  was  not  surprised 
when  we  reached  the  spot  to  find  a  good  solid  structure 
bridging  a  narrow  creek  not  more  than  four  feet  deep. 

As  we  rolled  on  down  Owen's  Valley,  he  sang,  chatted, 
and  drove  in  a  manner  which  showed  him  capable  of  three 
distinct,  yet  simultaneous  mental  processes.  I  follow  his 
words  as  nearly  as  memory  serves. 


MOUNT  WHITNEY.  269 

"  That  creek,  sir,  was  six  feet  deep. 

'  Oh  Lillie,  sweet  Lillie,  dear  Lillie  Dale.' 

What  the  devil  are  you  shying  at  ?  You  cursed  mustang, 
come  up  out  of  that ; 

'little  green  grave.' 

Yes,  seven  feet,  and  if  we  'd  have  fell  in,  swimming 
would  n't  saved  us. 

You,  Bailey,  what  are  you  a  doin'  on ; 

*  'Neath  the  hill  in  the  flowing  vale.' 

and  what's  more,  we  could  n't  have  crawled  up  that  bank, 
no  how. 

*  My  own  dear  Lillie  Dale.' 

You  'd  like  to  kick  over  them  traces,  would  you  ?  Keep 
your  doggoned  neck  up  snug  against  that  collar,  and  take 
that. 

We  'd  drowned,  sir ;  drowned  sure  as  thunder. 

'  In  the  place  where  the  violets  gi'ow.'  " 

Desert  hills,  and  low,  mountain  gateways  opening  views 
of  vast  sterile  plains,  no  longer  form  our  eastern  outlook. 
The  AVliite  Mountains,  a  lofty  barren  chain  vieing  with 
the  Sierras  in  altitude,  rose  in  splendid  rank  and  stretched 
southeast  parallel  with  the  great  range.  Down  the  broad 
intermediate  trough  flows  Owen's  river,  alternately  through 
expanses  of  natural  meadow  and  desolate  reaches  of  sage. 

The  Sierra,  as  we  travelled  southward,  grew  bolder  and 
bolder,  strong  granite  spurs  plunging  steeply  down  into  the 
desert ;  above,  the  mountain  sculpture  grew  grander  and 
grander,  until  forms  wild  and  rugged  as  the  Alps  stretched 
on  in  dense  ranks  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach.  More 
and  more  the  granite  came  out  in  all  its  strength.  Less 
and  less  soil  covered  the  slopes  :  groves  of  pine  became 
rarer,  and  sharp,  rugged  buttresses  advanced  boldly  to  the 


270  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

plain.  Here  and  there  a  canon-gate  between  rough  gran- 
ite pyramids,  and  flanked  by  huge  moraines,  opened  its 
savage  gallery  back  among  peaks.  Even  around  the  sum- 
mits there  was  but  little  snow,  and  the  streams  which  at 
short  intervals  flowed  from  the  mountain  foot,  traversing 
the  plains,  were  sunken  far  below  their  ordinary  volume. 
The  mountain  forms  and  mode  of  sculpture  of  the  oppo- 
site ranges  are  altogether  different.  The  White  and  Inyo 
chains,  formed  chiefly  of  uplifted  sedimentary  beds,  are 
largely  covered  with  soil,  and  wherever  the  solid  rock  is 
exposed,  its  easily  traced  strata  plains  and  soft  wooded 
surface  combined  in  producing  a  general  aspect  of  breadth 
and  smoothness ;  while  the  Sierra,  here  more  than  any- 
where else,  hold  up  a  front  of  solid  stone,  carved  into 
most  intricate  and  highly  ornamental  forms.  Vast 
aiguilles,  trimmed  from  summit  to  base  with  line  of  slen- 
der minarets,  huge  broad  domes,  deeply  fluted  and  sur- 
mounted with  tall  obelisks,  and  everywhere  the  greatest 
profusion  of  bristhng  points. 

From  the  base  of  each  range  a  long  sloping  talus  de- 
scends gently  to  the  river,  and  here  and  there,  bursting  up 
through  Sierra  foot-hills,  rise  the  red  and  black  forms  of 
recent  volcanoes  as  regular  and  barren  as  if  cooled  but 
yesterday. 

I  had  reason  for  not  regretting  my  departure  from  the 
Inyo  House  at  Independence  next  morning  before  sun- 
rise; and  when  a  young  woman  in  an  elaborate  brown 
calico,  copied  evidently  from  some  imperial  evening 
toilet,  pertly  demanded  my  place  by  the  driver,  adding 
that  she  was  not  one  of  the  "  inside  kind,"  I  willingly 
yielded,  and  made  myself  contented  on  the  back  seat 
alone.  Presently,  however,  a  companion  came  to  me  in 
the  person  of  a  middle-aged  Spanish  donna,  clad  alto- 
gether in  black,  with  a  shawl  worn  over  her  head  after 


MOUNT   WHITNEY.  271 


the  manner  of  a  mantilla.  "Wlien  it  began  to  rain  vio- 
lently and  beat  upon  that  brown  calico,  I  made  bold  to 
offer  the  young  woman  my  sheltered  place,  but  she  gayly 
declined,  averring  herself  not  made  of  sugar.  So  the  donna 
and  I  shared  my  great  coat  across  our  laps  and  established 
relations  of  civility,  though  she  spoke  no  English,  and  I 
only  that  little  Spanish  so  much  more  embarassing  than 
none. 

In  her  smile,  in  the  large  soft  eyes,  and  that  tinge  of 
Castilian  blood  which  shone  red-warm  through  olive 
cheek,  I  saw  the  signs  of  a  race  blessed  with  sturdier 
health  than  ours.  With  snowy  hair  growing  low  on  a 
massive  forehead,  and  just  a  glimpse  now  and  then  of 
large  gold  beads,  through  a  white  handkerchief  about  her 
throat,  she  seemed  to  me  a  charming  picture  :  though, 
perhaps,  her  fine  looks  gained  something  by  contrasting 
with  the  sickly  girl  in  front,  whose  pallor  and  cough 
could  not  have  meant  less  than  the  pretubercular  state. 

Clouds  covered  the  mountains  on  either  hand,  leaving 
me  only  ranches  and  people  to  observe.  May  I  be  forgiven 
if  I  am  wrong  in  accounting  for  the  late  im]3rovement  of 
political  tone  in  Tuolumne  by  the  presence  here  of  so 
large  a  share  of  her  most  degraded  citizens  ;  people  whose 
faces  and  dress  and  life  and  manners  are  sadder  than  any 
possibilities  held  up  to  us  by  Darwin. 

My  long  ride  ended  in  a  few  hours  at  Lone  Pine,  where, 
from  the  hotel  window,  I  watched  a  dark-blue  mass  of 
storm  which  covered  and  veiled  the  region  where  I  knew 
my  goal,  the  Whitney  summit,  must  stand. 

For  two  days  storm-curtams  hung  low  about  Sierra 
base,  their  vapor  banks,  dark  with  fringes  of  shower,  at 
times  drifted  out  over  Lone  Pine  and  quenched  a  thirsty 
earth.  On  the  third  afternoon  blue  sky  shone  through 
rifts  overhead,  and  now  and  then  a  single  peak,  dashed 


272  MOUNTAINEERING  IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

with  broken  sunshine,  rose  for  a  moment  over  rolling 
clouds  which  swelled  above  it  again  like  huge  billows. 

About  an  hour  before  sunset  the  storm  began  ra2:)idly 
to  sink  into  level  fold,  over  which,  in  clear  yellow  light, 
emerged  "  cloud-compelling  "  peaks.  The  liberated  sun 
poured  down  shafts  of  light,  piercing  the  mist  which 
now  in  locks  of  gold  and  gray  blew  about  the  mountain 
heads  in  wonderful  s^^lendor. 

How  deep  and  solemn  a  blue  filled  the  canon  depths ! 
what  passion  of  light  glowed  around  the  summits  !  With 
delight  I  watched  them  one  after  another  fading  till  only 
the  sharp  terrible  crest  of  Whitney,  still  red  with  reflected 
light  from  the  long  sunken  sun,  showed  bright  and  glori- 
ous above  the  whole  Sierra. 

UjDon  observing  the  topography,  I  saw  that  one  bold 
spur  advanced  from  Mount  Whitney  to  the  plain ;  on 
either  side  of  it  profound  canons  opened  back  to  the 
summit.  I  remembered  the  impossibility  of  making  a 
climb  up  those  northern  precipices,  and  at  once  chose  the 
more  southern  gorge. 

Next  morning  we  set  out  on  horseback  for  the  mountain 
base,  twelve  miles  across  plains  and  through  an  outlying 
range  of  hills.  My  companion  for  the*  trip  was  Paul 
Pinson,  as  tough  and  plucky  a  mountaineer  as  France  ever 
sent  us,  who  consented  readily  to  follow  me.  Jos^,  the 
mild-mannered  and  grinning  Mexican  boy  who  rode  with 
us,  was  to  remain  in  care  of  our  animals  at  the  foot-hills 
wdiere  we  made  the  climb. 

I  left  a  Green  barometer  to  be  observed  at  Lone  Pine, 
and  carried  my  short  high-mountain  instrument,  by  the 
same  excellent  maker. 

Gauzy  mists  again  enveloped  the  Sierra,  leaving  us  free 
minds  to  enjoy  a  ride,  of  which  the  very  first  mile  sup- 
plied me  food  for  days  of  thought. 


MOUNT   WHITNEY.  273 

The  American  residents  of  Lone  Pine  outskirts  live  in 
a  homeless  fashion ;  sullen,  almost  arrogant  neglect  stares 
out  from  the  open  doors.  There  is  no  attempt  at  grace,  no 
memory  of  comfort,  no  suggested  hope  for  improvement. 

Not  so  the  Spanish  homes ;  their  low,  adobe,  wide-roofed 
cabins  neatly  enclosed  with  even  basket- w^ork  fence,  and 
lining  hedge  of  blooming  hollyhock. 

We  stopped  to  bow  good  morning  to  my  friend  and 
stage  companion,  the  donna.  She  sat  in  the  threshold  of 
her  open  door,  sewing  ;  beyond  her  stretched  a  bare  floor, 
clean  and  white :  the  few  chairs,  the  table  spread  with 
snowy  linen,  everything,  shone  with  an  air  of  religious 
spotlessness.  Symmetry  reigned  in  the  precise,  well-kept 
garden,  arranged  in  rows  of  pepper-plants  and  crisp  heads 
of  vernal  lettuce. 

I  longed  for  a  painter  to  catch  her  brilliant  smile,  and 
surround  her  on  canvas  as  she  was  here,  with  order  and 
dignity.  The  same  plain,  black  dress  clad  her  heavy 
ample  figure,  and  about  the  neck  heavy  barbaric  gold 
beads  served  again  as  collar. 

Under  low  eaves  above  her,  and  quite  around  the  house, 
hung,  in  triple  row,  festoons  of  flaming  red  peppers,  in 
delicious  contrast  with  the  rich  adobe  gray. 

It  was  a  study  of  order  and  true  womanly  repose,  fitted 
to  cheer  us,  and  a  grouping  of  such  splendid  color  as 
might  tempt  a  painter  to  cross  the  world. 

A  little  farther  on  we  passed  an  Indian  ranchero  where 
several  willow  wickyups  were  built  upon  the  bank  of  a 
cold  brook.  Half  naked  children  played  about  here  and 
there,  a  few  old  squaws  bustled  at  household  work ;  but 
nearly  all  lay  outstretched,  dozing.  A  sort  of  tattered 
brilliancy  cliaracterized  the  place.  Gay,  high-colored 
squalor  reigned.  There  seemed  hardly  more  lack  of 
thrift  or  sense  of  decorum  than  in  the  American  ranches, 

12*  K 


274  MOUNTAINEERING   IN   THE   SIERRA   NEVADA. 

yet  somehow  the  latter  send  a  stab  of  horror  through  one, 
while  this  quaint  indolence  and  picturesque  neglect  seem 
aptly  contrived  to  set  off  the  Indian  genius  for  loafing,  and 
leave  you  with  a  sort  of  aesthetic  satisfaction,  rather  than 
the  sorrow  their  haK  development  should  properly  evoke. 

Leaving  all  this  behind  us,  our  road  led  westward  across 
a  long  sage  slope  entering  a  narrow  tortuous  pass  through 
a  low  range  of  outlying  granite  hills.  Strangely  weath- 
ered forms  towered  on  either  side,  their  bare  brown  surface 
contrasting  pleasantly  with  the  vivid  ribbon  of  willows 
which  wove  a  green  and  silver  cover  over  swift  water. 

The  granite  was  riven  Avith  innumerable  cracks,  show- 
ing here  and  there  a  strong  tendency  to  concentric  forms, 
and  I  judged  the  immense  spheroidal  boulders  which  lay 
on  all  sides,  piled  one  upon  another,  to  be  the  kernels 
or  nuclei  of  larger  masses. 

Quickly  crossing  this  ridge  we  came  out  upon  the  true 
Sierra  foot-slope,  a  broad  inclined  plain  stretching  north 
and  south  as  far  as  we  could  see.  Directly  in  front  of  us 
rose  the  rugged  form  of  Mount  Whitney  spur,  a  single 
mass  of  granite,  rough-hewn,  and  darkened  with  coniferous 
groves.  The  summits  were  lost  in  a  cloud  of  almost 
indigo  hue. 

Putting  our  horses  at  a  trot  we  quickly  ascended  the 
glacis,  and  at  the  very  foot  of  the  rocks  dismounted,  and 
made  up  our  packs.  Jose,  with  the  horses,  left  us  and 
went  back  halT  a  mile  to  a  mountain  ranch  where  he  was 
to  await  our  return;  and  presently  Pinson  and  I,  with 
heavy  burdens  upon  our  backs,  began  slowly  to  work  our 
way  up  the  granite  spur  and  toward  the  great  canon. 

An  hour's  climb  brought  us  around  upon  the  south 
wall  of  our  spur,  and  about  a  thousand  feet  above  a  stream 
which  dashed  and  leaped  along  the  canon  bottom,  through 
wild  ravines  and  over  granite  bluffs.     Our  slope  was  a 


MOUNT   WHITNEY.  275 

rugged  rock-face,  giving  foothold  here  and  there  to  pine 
and  juniper  trees,  but  for  the  greater  part  bare  and  bold. 

Far  above,  at  an  elevation  of  ten  thousand  feet,  a  dark 
grove  of  alpine  pines  gathered  in  the  canon  bed.  Thither 
we  bent  our  steps,  edging  from  cleft  to  cleft,  making  con- 
stant, though  insignificant,  progress.  At  length  our  walk 
became  so  wild  and  deeply  cut  with  side  canons,  we  found 
it  impossible  to  follow  it  longer,  and  descended  carefully 
to  the  bottom. 

Almost  immediately,  with  heavy  wind  gusts  and  sound 
as  of  torrents,  a  storm  broke  wpon  us,  darkening  the  air 
and  drenching  us  to  the  skin.  The  three  hours  we  toiled 
up  over  rocks,  through  dripping  willow-brooks  and  among 
trains  of  deh-iSj  w^ere  not  noticeable  for  their  cheerful- 
ness. 

The  storm  had  ceased,  but  it  was  evening  wdien,  wet 
and  exhausted,  we  at  length  reached  the  alpine  grove,  and 
threw  ourselves  down  for  rest  under  a  huge  overhanging 
rock  which  offered  its  shelter  for  our  bivouac. 

Logs,  soon  brought  in  by  Pinson,  were  kindled.  The 
hot  blaze  seemed  pleasant  to  us,  though  I  cannot  claim  to 
have  enjoyed  those  two  hours  spent  in  turning  round  and 
round  before  it  wdiile  steaming  and  drying.  But  the 
broiled  beef,  the  toast,  and  those  generous  cups  of  tea  to 
which  we  devoted  the  hour  between  ten  and  eleven  were 
quite  satisfactory.  So,  too,  was  the  pleasant  chat  till 
midnight  warned  us  to  roll  up  in  overcoats  and  close  our 
eyes  to  the  fire,  to  the  dark  sombre  grove,  and  far  stars 
crowding,  the  now  cloudless  heavens. 

The  sun  arose  and  shone  on  us  while  w^e  breakfasted. 
Through  all  the  visible  sky  not  a  cloud  could  be  seen, 
and,  thanks  to  yesterday's  rain,  the  air  was  of  crystal 
purity.  Into  it  the  granite  summits  above  us  projected 
forms  of  suhlit  gray. 


276  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE  SIERRA  NEVADA. 

Up  the  glacier  valley  above  camp  we  slowly  tramped 
through  a  forest  of  noble  Pinus  Flexilis,  the  trunks  of 
bright  sienna  contrasting  richly  with  deep  bronze  foliage. 

Minor  flutings  of  a  medial  moraine  offered  gentle  grade 
and  agreeable  footing  for  a  mile  and  more,  after  which, 
by  degrees,  the  woods  gave  way  to  a  wide,  open  amphi- 
theatre surrounded  with  cliffs. 

I  can  never  enter  one  of  tliese  great  hollow  mountain 
chambers  without  a  pause.  There  is  a  grandeur  and  spa- 
ciousness which  expand  and  fit  the  mind  for  yet  larger 
sensations  when  you  shall  stand  on  the  height  above. 

Velvet  of  alpine  sward  edging  an  icy  brooklet  by  whose 
margin  we  sat  down,  reached  to  the  right  and  left  far 
enougli  to  spread  a  narrow  foreground,  over  which  we 
saw  a  chain  of  peaks  swelling  from  either  side  toward  our 
amphitheatre's  head,  where,  springing  splendidly  over 
them  all,  stood  the  sharp  form  of  Wliitney. 

Precipices  white  with  light  and  snow  fields  of  incan- 
descent brilliance  grouped  themselves  along  walls  and 
slopes.  All  around  us,  in  wild,  huge  heaps,  lay  wreck  of 
glacier  and  avalanche. 

We  started  again,  passing  the  last  two,  and  began  to 
climb  painfully  up  loose  debris  and  lodged  blocks  of  the 
north  wall.  From  here  to  the  very  foot  of  that  granite 
pyramid  which  crowns  the  mountain,  we  found  neither 
dif&culty  nor  danger,  only  a  long,  tedious  climb  over  foot- 
ing which,  from  time  to  time,  gave  way  provokingly. 

By  this  time  mist  floated  around  the  brow  of  Mount 
"Whitney,  forming  a  gray  helmet,  from  which,  now  and 
then,  the  wind  blew  out  long  waving  plumes.  After  a 
brief  rest  we  be<:jan  to  scale  the  southeast  ridg^e,  climb- 
ing  from  rock  to  rock,  and  making  our  way  up  steep  fields 
of  soft  snow.  Precipices,  sharp  and  severe,  fell  away  to 
east  and  west  of  us,  but  the  rough  pile  above  still  afforded 


MOUNT  WHITMEY.  277 

a  way.  We  had  to  use  extreme  caution,  for  many  blocks 
hung  ready  to  fall  at  a  touch,  and  the  snow,  where  we 
were  forced  to  work  up  it,  often  gave  way,  threatening  to 
hurl  us  down  into  cavernous  hollows. 

When  within  a  hundred  feet  of  the  top  I  suddenly  fell 
through,  but,  supporting  myself  by  my  arms,  looked  down 
into  a  grotto  of  rock  and  ice,  and  out  through  a  sort  of 
window,  over  the  western  bluffs,  and  down  thousands 
of  feet  to  the  far  away  valley  of  the  Kern. 

I  carefully  and  slowly  worked  my  body  out,  and  crept 
on  hands  and  knees  up  over  steep  and  treacherous  ice- 
crests,  where  a  slide  would  have  swept  me  over  a  brink 
of  the  southern  precipice. 

We  kept  to  the  granite  as  much  as  possible,  Pinson 
taking  one  train  of  blocks  and  I  another.  Above  us  but 
thirty  feet  rose  a  crest,  beyond  which  we  saw  nothing.  I 
dared  not  think  it  the  summit  till  we  stood  there,  and 
Mount  Whitney  was  under  our  feet. 

Close  beside  us  a  small  mound  of  rock  was  piled  upon 
the  peak,  and  solidly  built  into  it  an  Indian  arrow-shaft, 
pointing  due  w^est. 

I  climbed  out  to  the  southwest  brink,  and,  looking  down, 
could  see  that  fatal  precipice  which  had  prevented  me 
seven  years  before.  I  strained  my  eyes  beyond,  but  al- 
ready dense,  impenetrable  clouds  had  closed  us  in. 

On  the  whole,  this  climb  was  far  less  dangerous  than  I 
had  reason  to  hope.  Only  at  the  very  crest,  where  ice 
and  rock  are  thrown  together  insecurely,  did  we  en- 
counter any  very  trying  work.  The  utter  unreliableness 
of  that  honeycomb  and  cavernous  cliff  was  rather  un- 
comfortable, and  might,  at  any  moment,  give  the  death- 
fall  to  one  who  had  not  coolness  and  muscular  power  at 
instant  command. 

I  hung  my  barometer  from  the  mound  of  our  Indian 


278  MOUNTAINEERING  IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

predecessor,  nor  did  I  grudge  his  hunter  pride  the  honor 
of  first  finding  that  one  pathway  to  the  Summit  of  the 
United  States,  fifteen  thousand  feet  above  two  oceans. 

While  we  lunched  I  engraved  Pinson's  and  my  name 
upon  a  half  dollar,  and  placed  it  in  a  hollow  of  the  crest. 
Clouds  still  hung  motionless  over  us,  but  in  half  an  hour 
a  west  wind  drew  across,  drifting  the  hesivj  vapors  along 
with  it.  Light  poured  in,  reddening  the  clouds,  which 
soon  rolled  away,  opening  a  grand  view  of  the  western 
Sierra  ridge,  and  of  the  whole  system  of  the  Kern. 

Only  here  and  there  could  blue  sky  be  seen,  but  fortu- 
nately the  sun  streamed  through  one  of  these  windows  in 
the  storm,  lighting  up  splendidly  the  snowy  rank  from 
Kaweah  to  Mount  Brewer. 

There  they  rose  as  of  old,  firm  and  solid ;  even  the 
great  snow-fields,  though  somewhat  shrunken,  lay  as  they 
had  seven  years  before.  I  saw  the  peaks  and  passes  and 
amphitheatres,  dear  old  Cotter  and  I  had  climbed :  even 
that  Mount  Brewer  pass  where  we  looked  back  over  the 
pathway  of  our  dangers,  and  up  with  regretful  hearts  to 
the  very  rock  on  which  I  sat. 

Deep  below  flowed  the  Kern,  its  hundred  snow-fed 
branches  gleaming  out  amid  rock  and  ice,  or  traced  far 
away  in  the  great  glacier  trough  by  dark  lines  of  pine. 
There,  only  twelve  miles  northwest,  stretched  that  ragged 
divide  where  Cotter  and  I  came  down  the  precipice  with 
our  rope.  Beyond,  into  the  vague  blue  of  King's  canon, 
sloped  the  ice  and  rock  of  Mount  Brewer  wall. 

Sombre  storm-clouds  and  their  even  gloomier  shadows 
darkened  the  northern  sea  of  peaks.  Only  a  few  slant 
bars  of  sudden  light  flashed  in  upon  purple  granite  and 
•  fields  of  ice.  The  rocky  tower  of  Mount  Tyndall,  thrust 
up  through  rolling  billows,  caught  for  a  moment  the  full 
light,  and  then  sank  into  darkness  and  mist. 


MOUNT  WHITNEY.  279 

Wlien  all  else  was  buried  in  cloud  we  watched  the 
great  west  range.  Weird  and  strange,  it  seemed  shaded 
by  some  dark  eclipse.  Here  and  there  through  its  gaps 
and  passes,  serpent-like  streams  of  mist  floated  in  and 
crept  slowly  down  the  canons  of  the  hither  slope,  then 
all  along  the  crest,  torn  and  rushing  spray  of  clouds 
whirled  about  the  peaks,  and  in  a  moment  a  vast  gray 
wave  reared  high,  and  broke,  overwhelming  all. 

Just  for  a  moment  every  trace  of  vapor  cleared  away 
from  the  east,  unveiling  for  the  first  time  spurs  and 
gorges  and  plains.  I  crept  to  a  brink  and  looked  down 
into  the  Whitney  canon,  which  was  crowded  with  light. 
Great  scarred  and  ice-hewn  precipices  reached  down  four 
thousand  feet,  curving  together  like  a  ship,  and  holding 
in  their  granite  bed  a  thread  of  brook,  the  small  sapphire 
gems  of  alpine  lake,  bronze  dots  of  pine,  and  here  and 
there  a  fine  enamelling  of  snow. 

Beyond  and  below  lay  Owen's  Valley,  walled  in  by  the 
barren  Inyo  chain,  and  afar,  under  a  pale  sad  sky,  length- 
ened leagues  and  leagues  of  lifeless  desert. 

The  storm  had  even  swept  across  Kern  caiion,  and 
dashed  high  against  the  peaks  north  and  south  of  us.  A 
few  sharp  needles  and  spikes  struggled  above  it  for  a 
moment,  but  it  rolled  over  them  and  rushed  in  torrents 
down  the  desert  slope,  burying  everything  in  a  dark  swift 
cloud. 

We  hastened  to  pack  up  our  barometer  and  descend. 
A  little  way  down  the  ice  crust  gave  way  under  Pinson, 
but  he  saved  himself,  and  we  hurried  on,  reaching  safely 
the  cliff-base,  leaving  all  dangerous  ground  above  us. 

So  dense  was  the  cloud  w^e  could  not  see  a  hundred 
feet,  but  tramped  gayly  down  over  rocks  and  sand,  feeling 
quite  assured  of  our  direction,  until  suddenly  we  came 
upon  the  brink  of  a  precipice  and  strained  our  eyes  off 


280  MOUNTAINEERING   IN  THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

into  the  mist.  I  threw  a  stone  over  and  listened  in  vain 
for  the  sound  of  its  fall.  Pinson  and  I  both  thought  we 
had  deviated  too  far  to  the  north,  and  were  on  the  brink 
of  Whitney  canon,  so  we  turned  in  the  opposite  direction, 
thinking  to  cross  the  ridge  entering  our  old  amphitheatre, 
but  in  a  few  moments  we  again  found  ourselves  upon  the 
verge.  This  time  a  stone  we  threw  over,  answered  with 
a  faint  dull  crash  from  five  hundred  feet  below.  We 
were  evidently  upon  a  narrow  blade.  I  remembered  no 
such  place,  and  sat  down  to  carefully  recall  every  detail 
of  topography.  At  last  I  concluded  that  we  had  either 
strayed  down  upon  the  Kern  side,  or  were  on  one  of  the 
cliffs  overhanging  the  head  of  our  true  amphitheatre. 

Feeling  the  necessity  of  keeping  cool,  1  determined  to 
ascend  to  the  foot  of  the  snow  and  search  for  our  tracks. 
So  we  slowly  climbed  there  again  and  took  a  new  start. 

By  this  time  the  wind  howled  fiercely,  bearing  a  chill 
from  snow-crystals  and  sleet.  We  hurried  on  before  it, 
and  after  one  or  two  vain  attempts,  succeeded  in  finding 
our  old  trail  down  the  amphitheatre  slope,  descending  very 
rapidly  to  its  floor. 

From  here,  an  exhausting  tramp  of  five  hours  through 
the  pine  forest  to  our  camp,  and  on  down  the  rough 
wearying  slopes  of  the  lower  canon,  brought  us  to  the 
plain  wdiere  Jose  and  the  horses  awaited  us. 

From  Lone  Pine  that  evening,  and  from  the  open 
carriage  in  which  I  rode  northward  to  Independence,  I 
constantly  looked  back  and  up  into  the  storm,  hoping  to 
catch  one  more  glimpse  of  Mount  Whitney ;  but  all  the 
range  lay  submerged  in  dark  rolling  cloud,  from  which 
now  and  then  a  sullen  mutter  of  thunder  reverberated. 

For  years  our  chief,  Professor  Whitney,  has  made  brave 
campaigns  into  the  unknown  realm  of  Nature.  Against 
low  prejudice  and  dull  indifference  he  has  led  the  survey 


MOUNT   WHITNEY.  281 

of  California  onward  to  success.  There  stand  for  him 
two  monuments,  —  one  a  great  report  made  by  his  own 
hand ;  another  the  loftiest  peak  in  the  Union,  begun  for 
him  in  the  planet's  youth  and  sculptured  of  enduring 
granite  by  the  slow  hand  of  Time. 


XIY. 

*THE   PEOPLE. 

If  mankind  were  offspring  of  isothermal  lines  and 
topography,  we  might  arrive  at  a  just  criticism  of  Sierra 
Nevada  people  by  that  cheap  and  rapid  method  so  much 
in  vogue  nowadays  among  physical  geographers.  Their 
practice  of  dragooning  tlie  free-agent  with  wet  and  dry 
bulb  thermometers  would  help  us  to  predict  the  future  of 
Sierra  society  but  little  more  securely  than  Madam  Saint 
John,  who  also  deals  in  coming  events.  I  fear  we  have 
no  better  than  the  old  way  of  developing  what  lies  ahead 
logically  from  yesterday  and  to-day,  adding  large  measure 
of  sympathy  with  human  aspiration  and  faith  in  divine 
help. 

AVliy  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men  from  every  race 
upon  the  planet  wanted  gold,  and  twenty  years  ago  came 
here  to  win  it,  I  shall  not  concern  myself  to  ask.  N©r 
can  I  formulate  very  accurately  the  proportions  of  good, 
bad,  and  indifferent  dramatis  personce  upon  whom  the 
golden  curtain  of  '49  rolled  up. 

No  venerated  landmark  or  sacred  restraint  held  those 
men  in  check.  There  were  no  precedents  for  the  acting, 
no  play- book,  no  prompter,  no  audience.  "  Anglo-Saxon- 
dom's  idea  "  reigned  supreme,  developing  a  plot  of  riotous 
situation,  and  inconceivably  sudden  change.  Wit  and 
intellect  wrought  a  condition  the  most  ambitious  sav- 
ages might  regard  with  baffled  envy.  History  would 
not,  if  she  could,  parallel  the  state  of  society  here  from 


THE  PEOPLE.  283 

'49  to  '55,  nor  can  we  imagine  to  what  height  of  horror  it 
might  have  reached  had  the  Sierra  drainage  held  unlimit- 
ed gold.  Those  were  lively  days.  The  penniless  '49er 
still  looks  back  to  them  with  bleared  eyes  as  the  one 
period  of  his  life.  "  Dust "  was  plenty  and  to  be  had,  if 
not  for  digging,  at  the  modest  price  of  a  bullet. 

To  prove  the  soil's  fertility  ho  tells  you  proudly,  how, 
in  those  years,  wild  oats  on  every  hill  grew  tall  enough  to 
be  tied  across  yoar  saddle-bow.  This  irony  of  nature  has 
passed  away,  but  the  cursed  plant  ripens  its  hundredfold 
in  life  and  manner. 

No  one  familiar  with  society  as  it  then  was  feels  the 
least  surprise  that  Mr,  Bret  Harte  should  deal  so  largely 
in  morbid  anatomy,  or  appear  to  search  painfully  for  a 
single  noble  trait  to  redeem  the  common  bad.  Yet  not 
universal  bad,  for  there  were  not  wanting  a  few  strong 
Christian  men  who  amid  all,  kept  their  eyes  on  the  one 
model,  leading  lives  blameless  if  obscure. 

Broadly,  through  all  kind  and  condition,  shone  the 
virtue  of  generous,  if  not  self-denying  hospitality.  A 
sort  of  open-handed  fraternity  banded  together  the 
honest  miners ;  they  were  shoulder  to  shoulder  in 
c5mmon  quest  of  gold,  in  united  effort  to  make  the 
"camp"  lively.  The  "fraternity"  too  often  emulated 
that  of  Cain,  or  wore  a  ghastly  likeness  to  the  Com- 
mune. That  those  desperadoes,  who,  through  the  long 
chain  of  mining  towns  outnumbered  respectable  men, 
had  so  generally  the  fixed  habit  of  killing  one  another, 
should  rather  be  written  dow^n  to  their  credit ;  that  they 
never  married  to  hand  down  lawless  traits,  seems  their 
crowning  virtue. 

For  a  few  years  the  solemn  pines  looked  down  on  a 
mad  carnival  of  godless  license,  a  pandemonium  in  wdiose 
picturesque  delirium  human  character  crumbled  and  van- 
ished like  dead  leaves. 


284  MOUNTAINEERING   IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

It  was  stirring  and  gay,  but  Melpomene's  pathetic  face 
was  always  under  that  laughing  mask  of  comedy. 

This  is  the  unpromising  origin  of  our  Sierra  Civiliza- 
tion. It  may  be  instructive  to  note  some  early  steps  of 
improvement;  a  protest,  first  silent,  then  loud,  which 
went  up  against  disorder  and  crime ;  and  later,  the  inaug- 
uration of  justice,  in  form  if  not  reality. 

There  occurs  to  me  an  incident  illustratinfr  these  first 

o 

essays  in  civil  law ;  it  is  vouched  for  by  my  friend,  an 
unwilling  actor  in  the  affair. 

Exactly  why  horse-stealing  should  have  been  so  early 
recognized  as  a  heinous  sin  it  is  not  easy  to  discover ; 
however  that  might  be,  murderers  continued  to  notch  the 
number  of  their  victims  on  neatly  kept  hilts  of  pistol  or 
knives,  in  comparative  security,  long  after  the  horse  thief 
began  to  meet  his  hempen  fate. 

Early  in  the  fifties,  on  a  still,  hot  summer's  afternoon, 
a  certain  man,  in  a  camp  of  the  northern  mines  which 
shall  be  nameless,  having  tracked  his  two  donkeys  and 
one  horse  a  half-mile,  and  discovering  that  a  man's  track 
with  spur-marks  followed  them,  came  back  to  town  and 
told  "  the  boys,"  who  loitered  about  a  popular  saloon,  that 
in  his  opinion  some  Mexican  had  stole  the  animals. 

Such  news  as  this  naturally  demanded  drinks  aU  round. 
"Do  you  know, gentlemen,"  said  one  who  assumed  leader- 
ship, "  that  just  naturally  to  shoot  these  Greasers  ain't  the 
best  way.  Give  'em  a  fair  jury  trial,  and  rope  'em  up 
wdth  all  the  majesty  of  law.     That 's  the  cure." 

Such  words  of  moderation  were  well  received,  and  they 
drank  again  to  "  here 's  hoping  we  ketch  that  Greaser." 

As  they  loafed  back  to  the  veranda  a  Mexican  walked 
over  the  hill  brow,  jingling  his  spurs  pleasantly  in  accord 
with  a  whistled  waltz. 

The  advocate  for  law  said  in  undertone,  "  That 's  the 
cuss." 


THE   PEOPLE.  285 

A  rush,  a  struggle,  and  the  Mexican,  bound  hand  and 
foot,  lay  on  his  back  in  the  bar-room.  The  camp  turned 
out  to  a  man. 

Happily  such  cries  as  "  String  him  up ! "  "  Burn  the 
doggoned  '  lubricator ! ' "  and  other  equally  pleasant 
phrases  fell  unheeded  upon  his  Spanish  ear. 

A  jury,  upon  which  they  forced  my  friend,  was  quick- 
ly gathered  in  the  street,  and  despite  refusals  to  serve,  the 
crowd  hurried  them  in  behind  the  bar.  • 

A  brief  statement  of  the  case  was  made  by  the  ci  dcvant 
advocate,  and  they  shoved  the  jury  into  a^  commodious 
poker-room,  where  were  seats  grouped  about  neat,  green 
tables.  The  noise  outside  in  the  bar-room  by  and  by  died 
away  into  complete  silence,  but  from  afar  down  the  canon 
came  confused  sounds  as  of  disorderly  cheering. 

They  came  nearer,  and  again  the  light-hearted  noise 
of  human  laughter  mingled  with  clinking  glasses  around 
the  bar. 

A  low  knock  at  the  jury  door ;  the  lock  burst  in,  and 
a  dozen  smiling  fellows  asked  the  verdict. 

A  foreman  promptly  answered  "  Hot  guilty.'' 

With  volleyed  oaths,  and  ominous  laying  of  hands  on 
pistol  hilts,  the  boys  slammed  the  door  with,  "You'll 
have  to  do  better  than  that ! " 

In  half  an  hour  the  advocate  gently  opened  the  door 
again. 

"  Your  opinion,  gentlemen  ? " 

"  Guilty  1 " 

"  Correct !  You  can  come  out.  We  hung  him  an  hour 
ago." 

The  jury  took  theirs  next ;  and  when,  after  a  tew  min- 
utes, the  pleasant  village  returned  to  its  former  tranquil- 
lity, it  was  "  allowed "  at  more  than  one  saloon  that 
"  Mexicans  '11   know   enough   to   let  white   men's   stock 


286  MOUNTAINEERING   IN   THE   SIERRA  NEVADA. 

alone  after  this."  One  and  anotlier  exchanged  the  belief 
that  this  sort  of  thing  was  more  sensible  than  " '  nipping ' 
'em  on  sight." 

When,  before  sunset,  the  bar-keeper  concluded  to  sweep 
some  dust  out  of  his  poker-room  back-door,  he  felt  a  mo- 
mentary surprise  at  finding  the  missing  horse  dozing  under 
the  shadow  of  an  oak,  and  the  two  lost  donkeys  serenely 
masticating  playing-cards,  of  which  many  bushels  lay  in 
a  dusty  pile. 

He  was  reminded  then  that  the  animals  had  been  there 
all  day. 

During  three  or  four  years  the  battle  between  good  and 
bad  became  more  and  more  determined,  until  all  positive 
characters  arrayed  themselves  either  for  or  against  public 
order. 

At  length,  on  a  sudden,  the  party  for  right  organized 
those  august  mobs,  the  Vigilance  Committees,  and  quickly 
began  to  festoon  their  more  depraved  fellow-men  from  ti'ee 
to  tree.  Eogues  of  sufficient  shrewdness  got  themselves 
enrolled  in  the  vigilance  ranks,  and  were  soon  unable  to 
tell  themselves  from  the  most  virtuous.  Those  quiet  oaks, 
whose  hundreds  of  sunny  years  had  been  spent  in  length- 
ening out  glorious  branches,  now  found  themselves  play- 
ing the  part  of  public  gibbet. 

Let  it  be  distinctly  understood  that  I  am  not  passing 
criticism  on  the  San  Francisco  organization,  which  I  liave 
never  investigated,  but  on  "  Committees "  in  the  moun- 
tain towns,  with  whose  performance  I  am  familiar. 

•The  Vigilants  quickly  put  out  of  existence  a  majority 
of  the  worst  desperadoes,  and,  by  their  swift,  merciless 
action,  struck  such  terror  to  the  rest,  that  ever  after,  the 
right  has  mainly  controlled  affairs. 

This  was,  perhaps,  well.  With  characteristic  prompt- 
ness they  laid  down  their  power,  and  gave  California  over 


THE   PEOPLE.  287 

to  the  constituted  authorities.  This  was  magnificent. 
They  deserve  the  commendation  due  success.  They 
have,  however,  such  a  frank,  honest  Avay  of  singing  their 
praise,  such  eternal,  undisguised  and  virtuous  self-lauda- 
tion over  the  whole  matter,  that  no  one  else  need  interrupt 
them  with  fainter  notes. 

Although  this  generation  has  written  its  indorsement 
in  full  upon  the  transaction,  it  may  be  doubted  if  history 
(how  long  is  it  before  dispassionate  candor  speaks  ?)  will 
trace  an  altogether  favorable  verdict  upon  her  pages. 
Possibly,  to  fulfil  the  golden  round  of  duty,  it  is  needful 
to  do  right  in  the  right  way,  and  success  may  not  be 
proven  the  eternal  test  of  merit. 

That  the  vigilance  committees  grasped  the  moral  power 
is  undeniable  ;  that  they  used  it  for  the  public  salvation 
is  equally  true  ;  but  the  best  advocates  are  far  from 
showing  that  with  skill  and  moderation  they  might  not 
have  thrown  their  weight  into  the  scale  luith  law,  and 
conquered,  by  means  of  legislature,  judge,  and  jury,  a 
peace  wholly  free  from  the  stain  of  lawless  blood. 

An  impartial  future  may  possibly  grant  the  plenary 
inspiration  of  vigilance  committees.  Perhaps  that  better 
choice  was  in  truth  denied  them ;  it  may  be  the  hour 
demanded  a  sudden  blow  of  self-defence.  Whether  better 
or  best,  the  act  has  not  left  unmixed  blessing^,  althouo'h  it 
now  seems  as  if  the  lawlessness,  which  even  till  these 
later  years  has  from  time  to  time  manifested  itself,  is 
gradually  and  surely  dying  out.  Yet  to-day,  as  I  write. 
State  troops  are  encamped  at  Armador,  to  suppress  a 
spirit  which  has  taken  law  in  its  own  hand. 

With  the  gradual  decline  of  gold  product,  something 
like  social  equilibrium  asserted  itself.  By  1860,  Cali- 
fornia had  made  the  vast  inspiring  stride  from  barbarism 
to  regularity. 


288  MOUNTAINEERING   IN   THE   SIERRA   NEVADA. 

In  failing  gold-industry,  and  tlie  gradual  abandonment 
of  placer-ground  to  Chinamen,  there  is  abundant  pathos. 
You  see  it  in  a  hundred  towns  and  camps  where  empty- 
buildings  in  disrepair  stand  in  rows  ;  no  nailing  up  of 
blinds  or  closing  of  doors  hides  the  vacancy.  The  cheap 
squalor  of  Chinese  streets  adds  misery  to  the  scene, 
besides  scenting  a  pure  mountain  air  with  odors  of  com- 
plete wretchedness.  Pigs  prowl  the  streets.  Every  de- 
serted cabin  knows  a  story  of  brave  manly  effort  ended 
in  bitter  failure,  and  the  lingering  stranded  men  have  a 
melancholy  look  as  of  faint  fish  the  ebb  has  left  to  die. 

I  recall  one  town  into  which  our  party  rode  at  evening. 
A  single  family  alone  remained,  too  desperately  poor  to 
leave  their  home  ;  all  the  other  buildings  —  church,  post- 
office,  the  half-dozen  saloons,  and  many  dwellings  — 
standing  with  wide-open  doors,  their  cloth  walls  and 
ceilings  torn  down  to  make  squaw  petticoats. 

If  our  horses  in  the  great  deserted  livery  stable  were 
as  comfortable  as  we,  who  each  made  his  bed  on  a  billiard 
table,  they  did  well. 

With  this  slow  decay  the  venturous,  both  good  and 
bad,  have  drifted  off  to  other  mining  countries,  leaving 
most  often  small  cause  to  reQ,Tet  them. 

Pathos  and  comedy  so  tenderly  blent  can  rarely  be 
found  as  here.  Enterprise  has  shrunken  away  from  its 
old  belongings  ;  a  feeble  rill  of  trade  trickles  down  the 
broad  channel  of  former  affluence.  Those  few  '49ers  who 
linger  ought  to  be  gently  preserved  for  historic  speci- 
mens, as  we  used  to  care  for  that  cannon-ball  in  the 
Boston  bricks,  or  whatever  might  remind  this  youthful 
country  of  a  past.  They  are  altogether  harmless  now, 
possessing  the  peculiar  charm  of  lions  with  drawn  teeth. 

Behold  this  old-school  relic,  a  type  known  as  the  real 
Virginia  gentleman,  as  of  a  mild   summer  twilight  he 


THE  PEOPLE.  289 

walks  along  the  quiet  street,  clad  in  black  broadcloth 
and  spotless  linen,  a  heavy  cane  hanging  by  its  curved 
handle  from  his  wrist.  He  pauses  by  the  "  s'loon,"  re- 
ceiving respectful  salutation  from  a  mild  company  of 
bummers  who  hold  him  in  awe,  and  call  him  nothing  less 
than  "  Judge."  They  omit  their  habitual  sugar-and- 
water,  and  are  at  pains  to  swallow  as  stiff  a  glass  and 
as  neat  as  their  hero. 

The  Judge  is  reminded  of  livelier  days  by  certain  un- 
healed bullet-holes  in  ceiling  and  wall,  and  recounts  for 
the  hundredth  time,  in  chaste  language,  the  whole  affair; 
and  in  particular  how  three-fingered  Jack  blew  the  top 
of  Allabam's  head  off,  and  that  stopped  it  all. 

"  We  buried  the  six,"  the  Judge  continues,  "  side  and 
side,  and  it  was  n't  a  week  before  two  of  us  found  old 
Jack  and  his  partner  on  the  same  limb,  and  they  made 
eight  graves.  The  ball  that  made  that  hole  went  through 
my  hat,  and  I  travelled  after  that  for  a  while,  till  the 
thing  sort  of  blew  over." 

"  Ah !  boys,"  he  winds  up,  in  tones  tremulous  with 
tearful  regret,  "you  fellows  will  never  see  such  lively 
times  as  we  of  the  early  days." 

His  tall  figure  passes  on  with  uncertain  gait,  stopping 
at  garden  fences  here  and  there  to  execute  one  or  two  old 
school  compliments  for  the  ladies  who  are  spending  their 
evenings  under  vine-draped  porches  ;  and  when  he  takes 
an  easy-chjjiir  by  invitation,  and  begins  a  story  laid  in  the 
spring  of  '50,  the  Judge  is  conscious  in  his  heart  that  the 
full  saloon  veranda  is  looking  and  saying,  "  The  wim- 
mun  always  did  like  him." 

The  '49  rough,  too,  still  stays  in  almost  every  camp. 
He  evaded  rope  by  joining  the  "Vigilants,"  and  has 
become  a  safe  and  fangless  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing. 
He  found  early  that  he   could  spunge   and   swindle   a 

13  S 


290  MOUNT AINEEEIXG   IN   THE   SIERRA   NEVADA. 

larger  amount  from  any  given  community  than  could 
"be  plundered,  to  say  nothing  of  the  advantages  of  per- 
sonal security.  But  now  all  these  characters  are,  God  be 
thanked !  few  and  widely  scattered.  Our  present  census 
enrolls  a  safe,  honest,  reputable  population,  who  respect 
law  and  personal  rights,  and  who,  besides,  look  into  the 
future  with  a  sense  of  responsibility  and  resolve. 

It  is  very  much  the  habit  of  newly  arrived  people  to 
link  the  past  and  present  too  closely  in  their  estimate  of 
the  existing  status.  That  dreadful  nightmare  of  early 
years  is  unfortunately,  not  to  say  cruelly^  mixed  up  with 
to-day.  I  think  this  must  in  great  measure  account  for 
the  virtuous  horror  of  that  saintly  army  of  travellers  who 
write  about  California,  taking  pains  to  open  fire  (at  sub- 
limely long  range)  with  their  very  hottest  shot  upon  the 
devoted  dwellers  here.  Such  bombardment  in  large 
pica,  with  all  the  added  severity  of  double-leading,  does 
not  interrupt  the  Sierra  tranquillity ;  they  marry  and  are 
given  in  marriage,  as  in  the  days  of  Noah,  regardless 
of  explosions  of  many  literary  batteries.  Nor  is  this 
peaceful  state  altogether  because  the  projectiles  fall  short. 
There  are  people  here  who  read,  and  read  thoroughly. 
Can  we  think  them  hyper-sensitive  if  surprised  when, 
after  opening  heart  and  doors  to  scribbling  visitors,  they 
find  themselves  held  up  to  ridicule  or  execration  in  un- 
impeachable English  and  tasteful  typography  ? 

An  equally  false  impression  is  spread  by  that  consid- 
erable class  of  men  whose  courage  and  energy  were  not 
enough  to  win  in  open  contest  there,  and  who  publicly 
shake  off  dust  from  departing  feet,  go  East  in  ballast,  and 
make  a  virtue  of  burning  their  ships,  forgetful  that  for 
one  waterlogged  craft  a  hundred  stanch  keels  will  furrow 
the  Golden  Gate. 

Between  the  cruelly  superficial  criticism  of  most  East- 


THE   PEOPLE.  291 

ern  Avriters,  and  dark  predictions  from  those  smug  proph- 
ets, the  physical  geographers,  Californians  have  nothing 
left  them  but  their  own  conscious  power ;  not  the  poorest 
reliance  in  practical  business,  like  building  futures,  one 
should  say. 

I  am  not  going  to  deny  that  even  yet  there  flickers  up 
now  and  then  a  lingering  flame  of  that  '49  Inferno.  If 
I  did,  the  lively  and  picturesque  auto-cla-f4  of  "  Austrian 
George,"  the  other  day,  would  be  moved  to  amend  me. 

We  must  admit  the  facts.  California  people  are  not 
living  in  a  tranquil,  healthy,  social  regime.  They  are 
provincial,  —  never,  however,  in  a  local  way,  but  by 
reason  of  limited  thought.  Aspirations  for  wealth  and 
ease  rise  conspicuously  above  any  thirst  for  intellectual 
culture  and  moral  peace.  Energy  and  a  glorious  audacity 
are  their  leading  traits. 

To  the  charge  of  light-hearted  gayety,  so  freely  trump- 
eted by  graver  home  critics,  I  plead  them  guilty.  There 
is  nowhere  that  dull,  weary  expression,  and  rayless  sedate- 
ness  of  face  we  of  New  England  are  fonder  of  ascribing^  to 
our  tender  conscience  than  to  east  winds.  So,  too,  are 
wanting  difficulties  of  bronchia' and  lungs,  which  might 
inferentially  be  symptoms  of  original  sin. 

Is  Californian  cheerfulness  due  to  widespread  moral 
levity,  or  because  perpetual  sunshine  and  green  salads 
through  the  round  year  tempt  weak  human  nature  to 
smile  ? 

I  believe  it  climatic,  and  humbly  offer  my  tribute  to 
the  thermometer-man,  who  among  many  ventures  has 
this  time  probably  stumbled  upon  truth. 

'  Let  us  not  grieve  because  the  writers  and  lecturers 
have  not  found  Californian  society  all  their  ideals  de- 
manded, for  (saving  always  the  dry-bulb  readers  of  past 
and   future)  their  dictum  is  confined   to  existing  con- 


292  MOUNTAINEERING  IN   THE   SIEERA  NEVADA. 

ditions.  Have  they  forgotten  that  these  are  less  potent 
factors  in  development  than  the  impulse,  that  what  a  man 
is,  is  of  far  less  consequence  than  what  he  is  becoming  ? 

Show  these  gloomy  critics  a  bare  stretch  of  vulgar 
Sierra  earth,  and  they  will  tell  you  how  barren,  how 
valueless  it  is,  ignorant  that  the  art  of  any  Californian 
can  banish  every  grain  of  sand  into  the  Pacific's  bottom^ 
and  gather  a  residuum  of  solid  gold.  Out  of  the  race  of 
men  whom  they  have  in  the  same  shallow  way  called 
common,  I  believe  Time  shall  separate  a  noble  race. 

Travelling  to-day  in  foothill  Sierras,  one  may  see  the 
old,  rude  scars  of  mining;  trenches  yawn,  disordered 
heaps  cumber  the  ground,  yet  they  are  no  longer  bare. 
Time,  with  friendly  rain,  and  wind  and  flood,  slowly, 
surely,  levels  all,  and  a  compassionate  cover  of  innocent 
verdure  weaves  fresh  and  cool  from  mile  to  mile.  While 
Nature  thus  gently  heals  the  humble  Earth,  God,  who  is 
also  Nature,  moulds  and  changes  Man. 


THE     END. 


Cambridge  :  Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  Welch,  Bigelow,  &.  Co. 


MAR 


University  of  California  Library 
Los  Angeles 

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